


A Broken Spirit

by HideTheDecay



Series: A Broken Spirit Series [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-15
Updated: 2018-11-15
Packaged: 2019-08-24 05:44:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 15
Words: 85,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16634057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HideTheDecay/pseuds/HideTheDecay
Summary: His eyes snapped over to him and he shook his head, his expression turning furious. “It’s you. It’s your fault. You tried to kill me.” It made so much sense that it was painful. He didn’t know how it worked, he hadn’t known it was even possible, but it had happened and his dreams of starting a new life were falling away from him. “You couldn’t just let me go. You couldn’t just leave me alone, you had to follow me and try to kill me!”





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was my first leap into writing/roleplaying in the Dragon Age universe. The first few chapters were heavily inspired by another fanfiction (to help me find my feet). I've since lost the fiction, so if anyone recognizes it, please let me know. I would like to give the author credit, thank you.

Working together, it hadn’t taken long for them to make camp for the evening and after walking for hours that day, it was a relief to have a chance to rest, but Anders couldn’t properly appreciate it. His eyes had been fixed on the backs of Hawke and Fenris all day, trailing behind them and watching the way they walked closely together, talking in quiet voices. With camp set up, it was no surprise they’d chosen a private spot to sit together near the fire, again far closer than friendship would allow, but with a the subtlest line of space separating them that plainly told everyone to mind their own business. A signal that has so far gone ignored by the mage and as he shuffled to take a seat himself, opposite them, he stumbled on a tree root as he caught sight of the elf smiling at something Hawke said - Fenris seemed to be doing that a lot lately.

He caught himself, though without much dignity, and when he managed to settle down on the ground, he heard a voice beside him that drew his attention away.

“You’re far more surefooted when you aren’t glaring daggers at Hawke and Fenris, Blondie,” Varric commented quietly, so that his voice wouldn’t drift across the fire to the pair. He stood beside him and sipped at a drink that he’d brought along, before offering it to him.

Anders’ eyes narrowed and he made a show of brushing off his thick black robes, ignoring the bottle. “Haven’t the foggiest what you’re talking about,” he denied, though it was of little surprise he’d been noticed. He really hadn’t been able to help himself and the few times he’d broken his gaze away had been one of the pair had looked back to address the rest of them.

\---

“If I didn't know better, I'd say you're a little jealous.” Isabela kept her voice down as well, leaning against a nearby tree and watching the mage recover from his misstep with a smirk on her lips. “Maybe a game of cards would take your mind off things?”

Fenris had not so much as glanced at Anders, though he'd seen the movement in his peripheral vision. He had much better things to look at, such as the young rogue beside him. “We had a little more daylight left. We shouldn't stop so early tomorrow.” Lately he was always eager to get back to town, rushing travels that involved all of the other people Hawke had collected on his journey.

\---

“I might take you up on that offer if there was anything to take my mind off of,” he replied without missing a beat. He knew they wouldn’t be falling for his lies any time soon, but he would continue to deny that he cared at all about the display across from them. Everyone, including the pair sitting in their own little world, knew that he had feelings for Hawke, though whether he was taking this development between them well a point of contention between those that cared enough about it to gossip.

Like Fenris, he saw the movement and his head turned briefly, watching as the mage righted himself, before turning his attention back to his companion. His words gave him a knowing smile. “In a hurry?” His eyes flicked down to his lips and his smile shifted slightly into a smirk.

\---

“You might want to take me up on it anyway, sweetness. If you stare much harder you might burn holes in the elf’s armor.” She glanced to the pair and shrugged. “Not that I’d really mind.”

“To be rid of them? Absolutely.” He didn't miss the glance to his lips and couldn't help the way it made him smile. It was feeling less and less strange to smile the more time he spent with Hawke. “We'll go further tomorrow. The sooner we're finished, the sooner we can be alone again.”

\---

“If that’s what you desire, don’t let me stop you from going after it.” He gave his hand a vague in their direction. If only he could be so lucky. It would be ever so convenient of the elf decided he preferred someone else to the object of his desires. He was intentionally keeping his gaze away from them, just to get the pair to shut up about it.

Varric chuckled under his breath and moved closer to the pirate, offering her the bottle since it seemed the mage couldn’t be tempted.

“Now, Fenris. Don’t forget that they’re our friends,” he chastised playfully, the smile warming him. “If you keep wishing them gone, they’re not going to be here when we actually need them.” Not that he wouldn’t mind some privacy himself. He rather liked the way things were between them when they were isolated from straying eyes.

\---

“I think it would upset our dear leader if I went after his new arm candy.” Isabela winked at Varric and took the bottle, taking a hearty sip. “Are you going to mope all night or are you going to lose a little gold to me and have some fun with us?”

“They're _your_ friends and we don't need any of them.” Fenris glanced briefly toward Anders. “Especially that one. Just think of how much better this night under the stars would be if it was just you and me.”

\---

“Never stopped you before,” he muttered under his breath, stretching and shaking his head. “If that’s what you call it, so be it. I think I’m in for the night.” He was truly was tired and though he would never admit it to any of them, they weren’t the only one making comments. Justice had grown impatient with the distraction that Hawke had become and it had only worsened when he’d had his heart broken by the rejection he’d faced weeks previously. He craved the peace and quiet that only sleep could provide and with that, he pulled out his bedroll and got comfortable on the ground.

Varric held his hand out for the bottle, wanting to take a sip of his own when she was done. “Guess it’s just you and me then, Rivaini.” He fished into his pocket and drew out a gold coin that he flicked into the air towards her. “Grab your cards and your gold.”

“Our friends,” he repeated, somewhat firmly. “You may not believe it, but they’re all your friends.” He followed his gaze to Anders, seeing the man settling in for the night. It was a bit early and he gaze lingered on him briefly, feeling a familiar pang of guilt he did anytime he looked at him. He felt bad for having ended things the way he had, but he didn’t regret it. It had needed to be done and he was happier than ever having done so. “Even Anders.” He paused, the words turning around in his head and he held back a roll of his eyes. “Okay, perhaps friend is too strong. I know you do not see eye to eye with him, but he means well. You both do.”

\---

The pirate handed back his drink and in an easy flick of her wrist, she caught the coin between her fingers. “Gold, cards, and drinks? At least someone else here knows how to have a good time.” With that, she turned for her pack to set up her cards and her gold for a few rounds.

“They're not and the mage doesn't mean well. He means to use all of us and throw us away when he's taken all he can. That's just the way they are.” His smile from before was long gone and he picked up a twig from the ground, using it to draw little patterns into the ground around their feet. “That's how most people are, really.”

\---

He never liked hearing him speak of mages this way. In some way, it felt like an insult. Not directed at him, of course, but his sister, the only family he had left, was a mage and he supported their plight whole-heartedly. He knew Fenris’ past, however, and he couldn't blame him for his mistrust. He’d learned that a part of being in love with him meant accepting his hatred for mages and maybe some day, he might see that they all weren't so bad.

He knew better than to push and though he desired to reach out and touch his arm, he refrained, “Come, I preferred it when we were talking about you and I.”

\---

“As did I.” Fenris drew in the dirt a moment longer, but seemed to relax a little with the change of subject. He tossed his stick into the fire, then looked back to the rogue. “I'll prefer it even more when we get back to town and it really is just you and I.”

\-----

It was well past noon when they were ambushed by bandits. It was a rather organized ambush, at that. With a couple of mages among them, it had been an intense battle, but they’d been dispatched of in the end. Attracting most of the blows, it was unsurprising that Fenris was injured, but as usual, his wounds were not debilitating and rather than accepting a healing and being done with it, he insisted to bandage the wounds and let them heal on their own. If the elf didn’t naturally heal so quickly, they all would have pushed harder against his stubbornness, but as it was they were all recovering from the fight and they had time.

Hawke, who had gotten away with barely a scratch, decided to scout ahead a little and it was the first time since they’d left the city that he was separated from Fenris. He watched him head off and his eyes flicked briefly to Fenris, who was busy tending to his wounds, before following after him. They were just out of sight when he caught up to him and when Hawke looked back to see who had followed, he stilled. Their eyes met and Ander’s heart skipped a beat, but Hawke turned his eyes away, looking off into the distance.

“Anders,” he acknowledged, waiting for whatever it was he had to say.

“Hawke,” he replied, feeling suddenly nervous. There was a long hesitation, so much so that the rogue ended up looking back at him, his eyes questioning. “I know it isn’t my place to criticize, but… are you sure about Fenris?” He knew he shouldn’t be bringing this up, not with his emotions feeling so raw, but he just had to know. Why Fenris? “He seems less a man to me than a wild dog.” He didn’t deserve Hawke. Neither of them did, really, but if it had to be one of them, he couldn’t stand that it wasn’t him.

Hawke sighed, really wishing that he hadn’t come to him with this. He wanted to put this behind him and as hurt as the mage was, he didn’t need him calling his relationship into question. “You just don’t know him,” he replied simply, since that was the truth of it. They didn’t know each other and though he’d made tentative attempts to bridge the distance between them, they were both resistant.

“I know as much as I’m ever likely to.” He’d tried in the beginning to be civil, but like the dog he was, Fenris always bit at his fingers and he’d had enough. Their dislike was mutual and he had no desire to know him any better. He knew enough to know that he wasn’t good enough for Hawke.

\---

“That's right, mage.” Fenris agreed by way of spiteful greeting as he made his way toward them. He was limping slightly on the leg he'd bandaged, but as bloodied as he was at the moment, he looked fierce and ready for another fight. Hawke scouting ahead without him made him a little uneasy, despite the fact that the rogue was more than capable of defending himself, but the disappearance of the mage as well when he'd looked up from bandaging had prompted him to see what was going on. He'd caught most of their conversation and was keen to butt into it. For once, the mage was right about a couple things. He was right that he would never really know him. He was even more right that it was not his place to criticize. His eyes were fixed on Anders and dared the mage to push this any further.

\---

He stiffened when he caught sight of Fenris, not having expected him to follow and push into their conversation. He should have known better. He met the elf’s gaze and saw the anger in his eyes and that, more than anything, pushed him to continue. “He has let one experience color his whole world,” he went on, as if he hadn't been interrupted at all, “Surely you want someone more open-minded?”

\---

Fenris snorted, amazed by the nerve the man had to go on as if he wasn't there. “A mage and a hypocrite.” His eyes moved to Hawke, incredulous that he was even humoring this conversation. Especially after talking of how Anders ‘meant well’ when it came to him. He frowned and shook his head. “What company you keep.”

\---

His brows lifted slightly and he looked between them, uncomfortable being caught between them like this. “You’re right, it's not your place to criticize so I’d would appreciate if you’d keep your opinion to yourself.” He turned his attention to Fenris and saw that he’d finished bandaging himself, but he still looked rough. “Let’s go sit, we won’t be leaving for some time yet.” He needed rest.

\---

“Let's.” He nodded toward where the others were resting, but looked back to Anders. “Why don't you go do something besides bother Hawke? Maybe something useful for once like scouting ahead. Far, far ahead.”

\---

It was a blow that kept him silent and expressionless. He ignored the elf’s response, his eyes fixed on Hawke as they moved away. When they were out of sight, it became clear that he had heard him, because he found himself doing just that. Walking ahead and putting as much distance as he could between him and the group. “Shut up,” he hissed at the voice in his head, swallowing down the sorrow he felt. Whatever feelings he had for Hawke, it was clear that they weren’t returned and that he truly had given his heart to the runaway slave, for better or for worse.

\-----

Late that night after everyone else had gone to bed, Fenris was still fuming. The glares and underhanded comments were one thing, but actually trying to convince Hawke that this relationship was bad for him? When their leader was clearly happy with him, this mage would go out of his way to try to convince him that he should find someone else? Fenris knew exactly who Anders had in mind for his replacement and he wasn’t having it.

He tossed and turned in his bedroll, though he tried to keep his movements quiet since Hawke slept so close to him. He kept convincing himself that he was wounded and tired and eventually he would fall asleep, but the hours crept by and he found himself too angry to sleep. Finally he crept from his bedroll, moving silently around the sleeping bodies of their group until he found the place where the mage had settled for the night. His lips curled into a snarl when he laid eyes on him and he gave him a rough shake. “Wake up.” He hissed in a low voice.

\---

It wasn’t the first time he’d been startled awake in such a manner, but it still made him gasp as his eyes snapped open. There was a brief flash of blue in them, but it quickly faded and alarmed amber eyes found Fenris. When he registered who it was, he quickly pushed himself up, surveying the scene around them, but it appeared everyone was asleep and all was quiet. He was confused, but when he finally looked back to Fenris, he recalled what happened earlier that day and he met his gaze coolly. “Really? Is your plan to prevent me from sleeping so I stumble off a cliff in the morning while I’m half-awake?”

\---

“That would delight me, but no.” He grabbed Anders by the collar of his robe and gave him a harsh yank forward so he could whisper to him. “You need to get over your little crush on Hawke. He made his choice and it wasn’t _you_. Try anything with him and I will kill you. Have I made myself clear?”

\---

He tensed when he was yanked in and he found himself far closer to the elf than he’d ever been before. His words made his hands curl into fists and as much as he hated them, he was right. He didn’t choose him. He chose this...animal. The fact that he was threatening him so harshly though, brought some amusement to him and he met his gaze. “Do I threaten you so?” Perhaps there was a reason why.

\---

“You threaten us all by being the mage scum you are. You just happen to be giving me an even better reason to want you dead. The only reason I’m giving you this warning is because when I kill you, I want you to know that it’s coming.” The fact that the mage found this entertaining in the slightest made his lyrium flare as if he meant to pull his heart from him this very instant. Not that he would. Not when Hawke seemed to find something in him worth keeping around. “If you were a threat to me, Hawke would be sleeping beside you tonight.”

\---

He felt a rush of fear when the darkness of the night was broken by his glow, his hand lifting to clutch at the wrist keeping him pulled in. He wouldn’t kill him. If he did, Hawke wouldn’t forgive him. “Perhaps and yet he’s over there and you’re over here, aren’t you?” he replied, feeling just bold enough to taunt him. He wouldn’t do this here, not in front of everyone, sleeping or not.

\---

“Just long enough to tell you to back off if you value your life. Then I’ll go back to him and forget all about you for the night, just like he has, mage.” He’d grimaced slightly when his wrist was grabbed and now he shoved Anders away, ready to leave him for the night and get away from the unwanted hold. “If you’re that lonely, go lay with the pirate. I hear she’s not picky.”

\---

He was striking some deep blows, but he didn’t react to them. He stumbled back and caught his footing, rather furious about the entire encounter. He couldn’t stay here and lay among them, so he moved out of camp. He wasn’t going far, he just needed some space and when he was far enough to be alone, he sat down and buried his face in his hands, falling deep into the heartache that he’d barely begun to process.


	2. Chapter 2

It was a week later that he was given a warning. Isabela had heard something while in The Hanged Man, something involving him. She didn’t have the specifics, but she didn’t have to. He knew exactly what it was that she was talking about. Without a word to her, he’d hurried off, leaving her standing there confused and calling after him.

They’d found out. He didn’t know how, but they’d discovered what he was planning and if he was right, they would be closing in that very night. Why would they wait? He didn’t even know if it was safe to return to the clinic, but he had to gather his things and so he was cautious as he made his way through Darktown, trembling as he entered the familiar walls that had been his home for years. He had almost no possessions, but he threw it all in a sack and tossed over his shoulder, taking a final look at this place where he’d changed so much and yet so little.

He had half a thought to go to the Chantry. To see his work finished and be done with it, but if they knew, it would be impossible. It would be completely locked down and there would be no way to get in and do what needed to be done. He cursed under his breath and though Justice wanted him to stay and finish what he started, he couldn’t. He couldn’t let them catch him. If they knew the truth and they were coming for him, he didn’t have a chance. He would be killed or, even worse, be made Tranquil. For what? His plan had failed and while he’d always meant to face the consequences of his actions, there hadn’t been any actions to be of consequence yet.

He had to go. Now. He left Darktown in a hurry, making his way through the winding streets of the city, all the way to Hightown. He’d only visited Hawke’s estate rarely, but he knew he couldn’t leave without saying goodbye to at least him. Whatever had happened between them, he’d been a good friend to him over the years and it would be wrong for him to disappear without a word.

When he came to the door, he knocked loudly on it. Not enough to catch the attention of any patrolling guards that might be nearby, but enough to wake whoever was inside. There was a loud barking inside and shortly after, the door was being opened by the dwarf Bodahn, who looked to be half-asleep.

“Bodahn…” he started, but his voice was cut off when he heard a voice call from the upper landing.

“Bodahn, who is it?”

Anders was on edge and he hurried unapologetically past the dwarf to enter the foyer, where he could see Hawke standing at the top of the stairs wearing nothing but some trousers that had been hastily pulled on. “Hawke, I have to speak to you.”

The mage looked so worked up that concern filled the rogue as he hurried down the stairs to meet him, the sleep fading from his eyes as he took in his pale complexion. “What is it? Did something happen?”

“I have to go,” he answered, not knowing where to begin. There was no where to begin. He wasn’t going to explain it, he was just going to go. This was just goodbye.

“Go?” Hawke asked, not understanding what he meant by his dire words.

Anders met his gaze and though he’d been thoroughly rejected by the man, knowing that he would never see him again, he found himself throwing caution to the wind and closing the distance between them to crush their lips together. He felt him tense as he clutched at his sides, trying to hold onto it, but after some clear inner struggle, the kiss was ever so slightly returned.

\---

Fenris was slow to follow, having taken a moment to dress in his armor in case there was trouble. Still, when he appeared at the top of the stairs, his hair was wild and his clothing hanging off of him in places to suggest he’d been bare and had dressed quickly and was only half-awake. When his eyes fell on the two kissing at the base of the stairs, it was the last thing he expected to see. It took him a long moment to register and his feet were moving before he was truly comprehending what he saw. By the time he reached them, he was swearing in mixed Tevene under his breath, so furious that he couldn’t properly express his thoughts in just one language. He grabbed Anders by the hair, tugging him fiercely away from his lover and taking a chunk of hair with his grasp. Before he even got a good look at the mage, he followed it up with a punch with the other hand, hoping to break the jaw that had just been locked with Hawke’s.

\---

Anders yelled when he was torn away from the rogue, the sudden pain blinding him briefly. The punch was all he managed to get in, because Hawke suddenly throw himself between them and grabbed hold of Fenris, forcing him to let go and dragging him away from the mage. The hold he kept on him was unforgiving, every intention of keeping them far from each other. “Fenris, this isn’t what it looks like,” he tried to placate him, though he wasn’t entirely sure what had happened himself.

The mage backed away from them and he shook his head, ignoring the elf entirely. “Hawke, I’m sorry.”

“Anders…just go.” Their gazes met and there was something strange in his expression. Something sad. Something that spoke of regret. The look was gone as quickly as it arrived, but he knew what it meant. It was clear as the night itself that Hawke’s heart belonged to Fenris, but it seemed that perhaps he had a little piece of it for himself. That was enough for him and he turned and hurried out, knowing he had to get out of the city as quickly as possible.

\---

Fenris gasped when Hawke held him so tightly, the pain of it only enraging him further. He was seething and by the time he managed to struggle free without hurting the rogue, the mage was already gone. He backed away from Hawke, looking at him incredulously. “Not what it looks like? You weren’t exactly shoving him away.” He snapped, his voice giving away that he was as hurt as he was angry. He marched to the nook in the foyer where he kept his sword when he spent his nights in this manor, not entirely sure of where he meant to go just yet.

\---

“Don’t,” he replied, somewhat sharply. “I was half-asleep and he threw himself on me. I was caught off-guard.” He followed after him, standing between him and the hall that lead to the door. “You can’t go racing after him. Stay here.” He wanted to make sure that that everything was okay between them and he didn’t want to hear about a dead mage in the morning.

\---

“So off-guard that you were kissing the mage back?” He shook his head, so disgusted by what he’d seen and unsure of where to start in sorting through his feelings about it. Right now, all he felt was rage and that was a safe, familiar feeling that he knew how to deal with. “Let me go. We’ll talk about it when I get back.”

\---

“I didn’t,” he denied, part of him truly believing that. “Don’t go. I want you to stay here. With me.” He took a step towards him and reached out for him, this time a lot gentler as he sought to touch him.

\---

“Don’t.” He took a step back, unable to handle the touch that he so often craved from the man. “If you wanted me to stay tonight, you should have pushed him away. You should have made him stop.” He hated talking about it, hated thinking about it, but he’d seen it with his own eyes. “We’ll talk about it when I come back.” He said again, then side-stepped Hawke and rushed down the hall to leave.

\---

“Fenris!” he called after him, starting to follow, but not going fast enough to catch him. “Just leave him alone, Fenris!” He was beginning to feel anger towards the mage for barging in like that and making a scene and he still had no idea what he meant about having to ‘go’, but he didn’t want him hurt. He didn’t want him on the end of the elf’s rage, even if he deserved it.

\---

Of course it was the mage he was worried about. Without a glance behind him, Fenris rushed into the streets, keeping to the shadows as he began to track his quarry. He honestly had no idea where the mage might be going, but he’d tracked the slave hunters movements enough to pick up on him quickly enough. He moved quickly and quietly, hoping to catch sight of Anders before he got beyond his reach.

\---

It hadn’t taken much for him to barter passage on a ship that was leaving that morning. He had to pay double the normal rate to secure himself a room, but as little gold as he had, he’d saved up for something like this. He’d always known that something could go wrong and that he would have to drop everything and flee. He had hoped it wouldn’t come to this and as he fell onto the questionable sheets of the bed in his room, he finally felt the weight of everything crumbling from beneath him. Everything he’d been working for was gone and he’d managed to make no difference at all despite his conviction to change the lives of the enslaved mages of the Circle. He was walking away from everything, but he’d learned years ago that it was what he did best and he’d long since accepted that he would always be fleeing.

\---

Fenris had snuck onto ships before and this was no more difficult than the others. He crept down hallways, finding his way to the passenger rooms which were thankfully almost entirely vacant since most would be boarding in the morning when the ship left. When he pushed open the door to Anders’ room, it was like a soothing breeze rushing over his skin to ease a little of the heat of all of his anger. He'd found him and he could end it here. “Mage.” He spat the word out venomously as he stepped inside and shut the door.

\---

His eyes flicked up towards the door when it opened and they widened when he saw Fenris standing there. Fenris. He quickly scrambled up, pressing himself back against the wall that the bed was sitting against. “ _Come on_ , Fenris, you’ve won. I’m leaving. You’re never going to see or hear from me again!” His eyes flicked over at his staff, lying resting against the table that stood beside the bed. He was fearful to see him, knowing that he had pissed him off and that the elf could be so very drastic when he felt wronged.

\---

“I didn't say I wanted to win and I didn't say I wanted you to leave. I said that if you tried anything with Hawke, I would kill you.” He moved in closer, not even thinking of the staff. He only had eyes for the mage and when he lunged, he reached him in a heartbeat, grabbing him by the throat. “You couldn't stay off of him for more than a week!”

\---

He gasped when his throat was taken in hand, the movement having been a blur that he was use to seeing on the battlefield, but not one that he’d experienced for himself. Like the last time he was grabbed, his hands lifted to clutch at the one holding him and he squeezed tightly as he tried to force it away. “Maker’s breath,” he grunted, his voice strained, “I was leaving. I had to say goodbye.” He met the fierce green eyes that were boring into him, the amber of his own were desperate.

\---

“And you think there is nothing wrong in kissing a man goodbye when he's in love with someone else?” He was so furious that he had no idea the hurt and betrayal was coming through in his gaze as well as his anger. That Hawke would return the kiss, even just a little. His lips pulled back in a snarl and he began to punch him wildly with his free hand, not exactly aiming, just wanting to hurt him before he pulled his beating heart from his chest. “I warned you. You just had to leave him alone.”

\---

Since his strength wasn’t getting him anywhere, he tried something else in light of the beating he was receiving. A rush of energy shot through his hands and electricity surged up through Fenris’ arm, giving him a nasty shock that allowed him no choice but to release him. He fell into a rough coughing fit as soon as he was released, but was quickly scrambling up, lunging for his staff.

\---

Fenris have a rough cry of pain when the shock made him let go and stumble back, holding his wrist protectively a moment. His eyes caught what Anders was lunging for and dove for it, kicking it to the other side of the room before the mage could get it. “No. I didn't use my blade, you won't use your staff. If you can stop me with your hands, do it.” He challenged, his skin lighting up with lyrium. It was only an instant later that he lunged for Anders again, putting an insubstantial hand into his chest with every intention of solidifying his fingers once they closed around his heart.

\---

The moment the hand slid into his chest, there was a burst of light and energy as cracks of light formed on his skin and his eyes glowed brightly enough to be blinding. “No,” he said, his voice not his own. It was deeper and it seemed to fill the entire room, echoing as if they were in the wide halls of a stone temple and not a tiny wooden room. “You will not put your hands on him.” Justice’s hand had caught his wrist and physically pulled the glowing hand out from him, his grip crushing in a way that it had not been before.

\---

He was startled by the sudden change, but he still looked completely enraged as his hand was pulled from the mage. The grip had him grimacing and tugging against it. “This is not your fight, demon. Give me the mage.” He snarled viciously as he struggled.

\---

“I am no demon,” he snapped back, reflecting his rage at being called as such. “I am Justice and you are not.” There was another burst of energy and the elf was thrown back from him, into the far wall near the door. “Leave or I will be forced to end you.”

\---

The hit against the wall was hard enough to daze him and by the time he got to his feet, he'd regained his senses enough to realize he wouldn't be getting his hands on Anders again tonight. “This isn't over.” He growled, but didn't advance again. He stormed out the door, so unfulfilled in his rage since the mage would leave alive. He would go back to his ‘house’ to cool down for the rest of the night, then see if the next day he was ready to try discussing this with Hawke.

\---

On the deck, all appeared to be quiet, but that wasn’t the case. The elf had been sighted boarding the ship and as he took his leave, there was an ambush waiting. A miasmic flask was tossed onto the ground in front of him, the contents bursting into the air and stunning him. Just long enough for a pair of cuffs to be thrown on his wrists. The cuffs, though they looked no different than what would be used on standard prisoners, had a special quality to them that made them particularly useful for this kind of slave. As he was dragged down below, where the other slaves were hidden, he was forced to the ground and the cuffs were attached to a chain on the wall that had the same properties.

\---

“Get off me!” Fenris snarled when he came out of his daze and realized what was happening. He did not go to the ground easily, thrashing, kicking, and even biting at anyone in reach. The cuffs glowed brilliantly as he desperately tried to phase through them, but he got nowhere. He just had to break one hand free and get the sword on his back, then he'd slaughter every one of his captors.

\---

When the elf was secured, a man swaggered forward, his presence commanding and his clothing a far cry from the rags his men were wearing. He had sharp features and his hair was dark and thick, falling in a mess of curls that made his blue eyes all the more piercing. “Well, well, well,” he said loudly, grabbing the attention of the other elves that had been chained up days prior. “If it isn’t the Champion of Kirkwall’s pet. I’ve heard a lot about you and it seems to all be true.” He looked closely at the lyrium tattoos that ran over every inch of exposed skin.

\---

“I am no one's pet.” He spat, tugging wildly at his chains. “Release me. I'll die before I'll let you take me back.” Chances were this man knew who he belonged to if he'd heard any rumors about him, but he wanted to make sure he was more trouble for them than he was worth. He thrashed and kicked at the nearest men, lashing out in any way he could without his sword.

\---

He tutted and shook his head. “Now, we both know that’s wrong. You _are_ someone’s pet and that someone would pay a pretty price to have you returned.” He closed the distance between them, though he kept far enough to be out of his reach should he decide to try something stupid like kicking or biting him. His men, it happened. Him, he would regret it. The slave’s thoughts had gone to the same place and he was pleased that they were on the same page. “Or perhaps do you think that your Champion would be willing to pay more?” Probably not and he would probably lose his merchandise as a result. It wasn’t worth it and he wouldn’t try, but for the sake of mocking him? Certainly.

\---

“No one will pay because I belong to no one.” He snarled, though that was far from true. His master had already blown through tons of gold trying to retrieve him and he'd pay handsomely for someone who could bring him back alive. “Your kind makes me sick. Buying and selling _people_.” Since he couldn't reach for an attack, he settled for spitting at the man taunting him.

\---

“There’s your mistake,” he replied smoothly, gesturing to his men to take the sword. They rushed forward and did so, but not without some considerable struggling. “You think you’re a person. You’re not even close.” When he was disarmed, he gave him a nasty smile. He turned and started out, followed by his men until all that was left was the escaped slaves and a handful of elves that were watching him.

\---

Fenris had put up a fight, but there was no real way to stop them from disarming him now that he was chained. He had nothing else to say to the man, but desperately kept trying to phase and charge him long after he was out of sight. He dislocated one of his shoulders trying to pull free and even then it took some time for him to tire and finally quiet down. He didn't want to grow weary, knowing that when his blood cooled, despair would settle in. He'd been careless and he'd been caught. The mage was smart to choose a slave ship, but he'd blindly followed him onto it. He'd keep trying after a rest, but part of him knew there was no getting out of these cuffs. He was going back to his master and his memories of both Hawke and freedom would be stolen from him so he'd go back to being a good little wolf.

\---

It was hours later when the door of the room swung open and the captain of the ship stepped in, looking much as he had earlier that night, though perhaps the drink or two he’d had since had given him a slight flush. He saw the elf standing near the wall and his brow lifted, figuring out what he’d been doing with little effort. “Continue that and I’ll have to tie your wrists to your ankles, but perhaps you would like that.”

\---

He straightened, letting his hands rest in their cuffs but staying close to the wall. If the captain misjudged his reach and got too close, he'd charge him. “Do what you will. I'll get out.”

\---

He smirked and stepped a little closer, but seemed to be well aware of just how much length there was in the chain keeping him on the wall. “You boarded my ship, much to my fortune, but I would like to know why. You were visiting a passenger, were you not?” They only had one passenger on the ship at this moment and so he knew exactly who it was.

\---

“I was. I just wanted to give him a parting gift. I just didn't expect him to lead me into the likes of you.” He spat at the man as he had earlier and started back at digging into the wall as if he had grown bored with the captain.

\---

“Oh? An enemy. I will have to reward him for bringing you to me. A better room, on me.” He could see that he intended to be difficult, which was of little surprise, so he called one of his men in and with the help if another flask to stun him, his ankles were bound with a pair of cuffs and they were in turn attached to his wrists, just as he’d threatened, so he was forced to sit slumped on the ground.

\---

He wished he could have attacked the man binding him, but the stun was effective and when he came to, he was sitting with his limbs joined. “Be sure you give him a nice room for his final nights, because once I'm out of here, he's a dead man.” Justice or not, he'd die for this. “This changes nothing. You won't take me alive.” He'd break out or die trying, anything to stay far from his old life.

\---

He chuckled and shook his head. “Rest up, you’ve a long journey ahead of you.” His curiosity sated, he headed back upstairs. He would have to speak with his passenger soon and he really did intend on rewarding him. It was time for another drink and a round of cards. They were leaving early in the morning and there was no better way to set sail than fighting a raging headache in the morning after a long night of booze and gambling.


	3. Chapter 3

A couple of days had passed on the sea and heavy as his heart had been, Anders was feeling better. With nothing but ocean air and sunshine around him, he felt...free. The feeling of freedom was one he’d never taken for granted and every time he’d been caught by the templars over the years, he craved the taste of it. Enough to escape again and again just so he could have it. He was putting the time he’d spent in Kirkwall behind him and truthfully, he needed this. It felt as if it was meant to be, as much that wounded him, and the only voice of dissent was Justice, who accused him of turning his back on those that needed him.

He wasn’t done fighting, he just needed to find a different direction. He would never abandon the mages and those assurances were the only thing that kept Justice at ease.

His time on the ship had been surprisingly pleasant, especially after he’d been told that he was being moved to a better room. He’d asked why, confused, but the only explanation given was that he’d pleased the captain. After seeing the room, he thought it best not to argue and that night he’d been invited to dine with the man. The affair had been enjoyable, though he’d been questioned about where he’d come from and why he was leaving, but he evaded answers easily enough and they parted ways after a few rounds of cards with the men. He never did learn what he’d done to please him, but they’d been on friendly terms since.

It was early in the morning when, stretching his legs around on the deck, he spotted a cat. His eyes lit in delight and all was forgotten as he began to chase the cat about. “Come here, kitty kitty!” he called, wishing he’d had a saucer of milk with him so he could lure the cat to him. It was the skittish sort, probably never interacting with the men of the ship and allowed to stay only to deal with whatever rat infestation there undoubtedly was. He wasn’t paying attention to where he was going as the cat darted down some the steps that lead to the cargo area, which was normally guarded but was curiously lacking eyes.

There was a door ahead that that blocked the cat’s movement and it ended up turning and hunkering low, taking a threatening stance. “Oh, it’s alright. I just want to meet you,” Anders assured the creature as he stopped chasing after it and lowering down to crouch at a distance. He held out his hand and waited patiently, unaware that on the other side of the door were a group of slaves that had been riding the ship, just like him, hidden from sight.

\---

Fenris was leaning against the wall, digging at the wall with the little movement he had. It had been far more effective before he’d been bound this way, but he hadn’t quit trying and had managed to do some damage. At this rate, in another week or so he might be out. But he didn’t let that discourage him. It had been a long couple days in the cargo pit and sitting in his own filth had made it far longer. He’d refused food and water the first day or so, lashing out at anyone who came near him, but the previous night he had reluctantly taken a little water. He’d never get out if he completely sapped his strength here, but he also couldn’t stand to stay curled up in any more excrement. He thought he heard someone on the stairs and he snarled, attacking the wall with renewed vigor. “Fasta vass!” He spat, greeting whoever was coming to tend to them with vile insults as he usually did.

\---

The sound of a voice on the other side of the door startled him and he finally looked up to pay attention to where he was. He glanced behind him and then back at the door, his stomach sinking as he realized he shouldn’t be here. He straightened up and as he did so, he realized the voice he’d heard had spoken in a different tongue and had sounded not only angry, but familiar. He assumed it a guard and he felt the urge to hurry away, but there was a prickle of curiosity that saw him taking slow steps closer to the door.

When he got close enough, the cat hissed and darted past him, but he barely took notice. He shifted his ear close to the door, listening in, as if there might be more to hear to learn who was on the other side.

\---

“Venhedis! Bastards!” He growled, tugging fruitlessly at his chains. He was still feeling better after his sip of water the night before and he meant to headbutt or bite any of the crew foolish enough to come near him this morning. The only thing he’d consider being compliant for would be getting cleaned up, which he imagined would happen eventually. His master would pay more of he came home clean and without sores.

\---

Again, he startled slightly when he heard the voice. It was so familiar that he found himself pushing the door open without consideration of what the consequences of that might be. He took a step into the room and his eyes fixed on the figure lying bound on the floor, his bone white hair answering the question that the voice had posed.

“Fenris?” His expression was shocked and he quickly looked around, his eyes fixing on the elves and the chains that held them in place. “Maker, what is this?” he breathed as he shook his head, realizing exactly what this was. He hadn’t known it, but he’d bought passage on a slave ship. A ship that should have not have been allowed to leave the docks of Kirkwall at all, but was far away with kidnapped elves. He doubted anyone back at the city was even looking for them.  

\---

Fenris looked up when he heard the voice, looking miserable but a little too tired to really be angry. “I was wondering if you’d pay me a visit, mage. Don’t bother acting surprised. I’m sure you’ve enjoyed your nice room from the captain for this. Go on, laugh it up.”

\---

His eyes were drawn back to the warrior and he continued to shake his head at him, his expression slowly contorting with anger, even as understanding fell in. “You tried to kill me,” he hissed, remembering the way his hand had glowed as it had been shoved inside him. That was the last thing he remembered about that night, but Justice had filled in the blanks for him. He couldn’t believe it, that Fenris had gone so far as to try and rip his heart out when he’d given up and tried to put it all behind him.

Then again, he knew what a wild beast he truly was. He turned from him, having nothing further to say to him as he moved closer to the other elves who were watching him warily. “How long have you been here? Are you all from Kirkwall?” He was given nervous nods and he returned them, knowing he couldn’t just leave them to their fates. “I will find a key. When we next port, I will come for you and get you out.”

\---

“Of course I did. I _told_ you I would if you tried anything.” He growled after Anders had addressed the other elves chained with him. “But you live and I won’t for much longer. It looks as if you’ve won after all.” He pushed himself to sit up, but it took a little effort, weak and stiff from being in the same position so long.

\---

He couldn’t believe him and he spared him only a brief glance of disgust, before reassuring the elves that he would come back for them. He knew he couldn’t linger and he was distinctly aware that there should have been a guard to prevent him from coming down here and that if he dawdled, it was likely that he would be caught. He hurried out, making his way back up the stairs and onto the deck. He felt nauseous and the fresh air and sunlight weren’t the comfort they had been just minutes earlier.

\-----

Getting the keys had been easy enough. Being on good terms with the captain, he’d convinced him that they ought to drink the night away to celebrate coming to port the next morning. Of course, he had barely had a sip of anything and had only made it seem like he was matching him drink for drink. When he’d passed out drunk, he searched his cabin for the keys and found them with little struggle. All that was left was to wait until they actually got to port, since freeing the slaves would do them little good on the ocean. This time was spent anxiously, expecting the men to burst into his room at any moment after having discovered that the keys were missing.

As it was, they arrived peacefully in the morning at the crack of dawn, but he couldn’t relax just yet. He still had to get down there and free them before anyone found out. He knew this was going to end messily, but he it would be better for all of them if the elves could make a run for it while he distracted the slavers.

When it was time to leave the ship, he slipped down to the cargo area and sure enough, there was a guard standing near the door, looking as if to be asleep as he leaned heavily on the wall behind him. He summoned a crackling energy and sent a bolt of lightning at him, striking him directly in the chest and stopping his heart. The man fell to the ground and Anders hurried past him, entering the room.

“We have to hurry,” he announced to all of them as he began to quickly unlock all of the cuffs of the slaves. There were frantic words of thanks offered to him, but he was too busy making sure he unlocked everyone to pay attention. Everyone, until he got to Fenris. His urgency faded and he stood over him, looking down at him as if considering whether he could bring himself to be so kind to the man that had tried to rip out his heart.

\---

Fenris watched him with wide eyes, a little surprised he’d actually come back for the others as he’d promised. “You don’t have time to mock me, mage. Go. Get them off the ship.” He spoke with quiet desperation, looking to the door. He hadn’t so much as sat up, lying on his side and knowing he wasn’t going anywhere.

\---

He frowned and after a few beats, he turned from him and directed them out. At the base of the stairs, he started to explain to them what they were going to have to do, but his words slowed and he fell silent. There was a quiet minute that followed them leaving the room when the mage suddenly burst back inside and hurried over to him, attempting to unlock his cuffs with the key he’d used on the other slaves. It didn’t work, but there was more than one key on the ring he’d stolen and he quickly made his way through several keys before finding one that made the cuffs fall away from his wrists and ankles.

\---

He was startled when the mage rushed at him, but for the first time since he’d been down here, he did not lash out at the person who came near him. “...What are you doing?” He sounded as alarmed as he was confused as Anders went through the keys. When he was released, he instantly tried to scramble to his feet, but he was weakened and dizzy, stumbling back against the wall when he tried to move too fast.

\---

“Let’s go, I don’t have time to wait for you.” He hurried back out of the room, returning to the elves who were huddled fearfully at the base of the stairs. Just as he arrived, he heard a yelling and he cursed, throwing himself in front of the elves. “Run. I will distract them.” He pulled his staff off his back and hurried up the stairs, summoning a storm of lightning as he found himself face to face with not only with the slavers, but the captain, who looked like he was suffering from quite the hangover. From behind him, the slaves were running for the gangplank.

\---

Once he heard the shouting, he knew the fight was on and that Anders had begun the assault, though when he reached the top of the stairs his eyes fixed on the captain. It never even occurred to him to run with the other slaves. He was used to dodging the mage’s spells and so he rushed right into the crowd of slavers, dashing between them and tearing into them with his hands since his weapon had been taken.

\---

Lightning bolts rained on the deck and struck the men repeatedly and as he was charged, he swung his staff forward to meet them. He saw the rush of light fall into the fray out of the corner of his eye, but he was focused on the men in front of him. It was his instinct to keep his eyes on his allies, offering healing and support as needed, but he was more intent on making sure the slaves made it off the ship. When he saw some of the slavers running after them, lines of jagged light broke through his skin as he raced after them, throwing shot after shot of fire at their backs from his staff.

The captain, watching furiously as the slaves fled the ship, caught sight of the elf that was his meal ticket and he rushed to meet him, holding a blade in each hand. He was not running at his best, but neither was the elf and he didn’t have a weapon. He wasn’t messing around and just as he reached him, he disappeared from in front of him and reappeared behind him to shove the blade into his back.

\---

Fenris still had a handful of intestines from a slaver in one hand when the captain reached him, too rushed and sloppy to aim for specific organs at the moment. He snarled and had just reached forward to plunge his hand into the captain’s chest, eager to tear the heart from him when suddenly he vanished. Before he knew it, he was looking down at a blade jutting from his stomach. He cried out in rage more than pain as he moved forward, wanting to pull himself from the weapon so he could turn around and fight. He would die here, but not before he killed the bastard who had chained him, who had said he was much less than a person.

\---

He withdrew the blade as the elf pulled away and he gave him a dark smirk when he turned and their eyes met. He rushed at him again, though his reflexes weren’t as sharp as usual, swinging both blades at the same time. He wasn’t aiming to kill, but to severely maim. He knew everywhere to hit for a fatal blow and he intentionally avoided them, knowing there was nothing for him to defend or stop him with.

Anders had drawn the attention of the slavers that were running after the elves and they turned to face him. As a result, he had them on either side of him. The ones that he’d left on the ship were on his back and the others were rushing back his way, wanting to get rid of the mage that was attacking them from behind. A couple of the slavers continued on, not wanting to lose track of their elves, but most of them returned to surround him. He’d faced odds like this before, but usually with a companion or two nearby to run in and assist.

He was glowing brightly, the injustice of the elves being taken from their homes and dragged far away to have their freedom taken away all for the sake of greed was enough for him to burn with the need for vengeance. He continued to send out bolts of lightning when he could summon the energy, but it was quickly beginning to drain him as they swung with their blades, catching him here and there. Before long, it was down to only a few of them, but he’d exhausted himself and all he could do was lash out with his staff, but they were beginning to land dangerous blows.

\---

There was indeed nothing for him to defend with and in his current state, he wasn’t fast enough to dodge the blades. Both of them sank into him deeply, but he pushed forward anyway, committing to killing this man before he fell. “ _You_ are less than a person.” He breathed to him in a choked voice as he shoved a hand into the captain’s chest, pulling out his heart with a viciousness that felt so right that it numbed all of his pain for the time being. He could hear trouble behind him though and he had no time to revel in it, tugging one of the blades from his flesh and turning on his heels to face the slavers.

His quarrel with Anders was completely forgotten in the heat of the fight and he rushed in, hacking away at the men who were attacking the mage. He was faster and stronger than he had a right to be in this moment, bleeding heavily from the punctures in his torso and back, and blood had begun to seep from his mouth as well. But his adrenaline carried him through the end of the battle and it was only after the last slaver had fallen that he really began to stumble and sway, dropping the blade and letting it clatter at his blood-soaked feet.

\---

The men fell around him and Anders had to use his staff to keep himself steady as he watched the warrior sink down to the ground when all were slain. There was blood pooling around him and it was clear that he would not live long without intervention. The cracks of light in his skin faded as he eased down beside him and rummaged in his robes for a vial. He pulled the cork out and quickly downed the contents, feeling the flood of mana return to him and replenish him  It wouldn’t last, but it was something to get him through this.

The vial fell to the ground and he used his hands to seek out the worst wound at his stomach. Warmth radiated from them and the wound sealed. The rush of exhaustion he felt was intense and as he struggled to bring the magic forth again, he could see that there were horrified bystanders on the dock that had just watched the pair of them slaughter an entire ship. They had to get out of here and soon, but he knew that Fenris would not make it far if he didn’t tend to his wounds, so when he could summon another bout of healing, he did so, his hands moving to one of the wounds from the captain’s final blows.

“We have to go,” he concluded, knowing that he wouldn’t be able to heal the final wound just yet, but he should be able to survive since it looked as if it hadn’t gone through anything too important. “Can you stand?”

\---

For the first time, Fenris made no complaint about being healed. He was also completely still for the first time, too weary to squirm when the hands settled on him and the strange warmth flooded his open wounds. When Anders spoke to him, his eyes focused on him suddenly as if he’d been in some sort of trance. “Yes, I’m fine.” He insisted, pushing himself back up and spitting out a mouthful of blood once he was sitting. He stood on his own, but he stumbled and had to work to gain his footing, very weak but at least able to stay upright after the work Anders had done. “Let’s go.”

\---

This was not how he’d wanted to start his new life, but he’d done right by the slaves and, as much as Justice was chastising him for saving Fenris, an old companion. There was nothing new to being on the run, he just wished he didn’t have to be as he hurried into the city they’d arrived at. They needed to put as much distance between at them and this place as possible, but it was the beginning of the day and it was more important that they lay low while there were guards or, even worse, templars out and about. It wouldn’t be long until there was a bounty on their heads and he doubted very much that they could reason with any authority and convince them that they’d actually done a service and killed slavers. The ones that had gotten away would undoubtedly return to the ship and leave as soon as possible to avoid any further consequences and any evidence of their crimes would be long gone.

\---

Fenris wrapped an arm protectively around his bloodied torso which thankfully had fewer holes in it now. He moved quickly despite staggering and swaying on his feet, needing to rest but needing to run for safety even more desperately. The city was unfamiliar, but that was nothing new, he’d snuck his way through many new places over the years since his escape and he knew it wouldn’t take long to find somewhere safe to hunker down for a little while.

\---

The best places to hide were the worst parts of town and so he just followed the decay. When they came to a section of the city that looked fit for thieves and murderers, he managed to locate an abandon building that he hurried into, looking around to take stock of all the rooms and all possible exits. Deciding it would do, he moved over to a crate and sat down on the edge of it, catching his breath.

\---

Fenris followed him into the room, panting harshly but still keeping pace right up until Anders sat down. There were old tarps lying over a barrel in the corner of the room and as much as he wanted to drop where he was, he needed to do something first. He staggered to the corner and moved behind the barrel for a touch of privacy as he began to peel off his armor and the underclothing beneath, using a shaky hand to drag one of the tarps over his skin to wipe it clean of blood and waste. The tarp was dirty, but it couldn’t be dirtier than he was at the moment. It was a rough job, but he refused to lay in filth a moment longer. He grabbed the other dusty tarp from the barrel and wrapped it around himself like a blanket, finally taking the last few shaky steps to a bare spot on the floor so he could lie down against the wall.

\---

In the heat of the moment, he’d been unaware of the scent of refuse, but he slowly grew aware of it as the elf cleaned himself up behind the barrel. He was use to it and it didn’t take much to figure out why it was there. He didn’t mind it. He gave him his privacy, waiting until he had settled down to look over at him. He was expressionless, but  eventually he stood and made his way over to him, feeling inside his robes for another vial. This one was different in color and he offered it to the elf. “Take this. It won’t fully heal you, but it’ll do until I can later.” It would be enough to stop the worst of the bleeding, but he knew better than to think Fenris would want his help any further following that.

\---

He looked up at him a little distrustfully, but he recognized the potion for what it was so he took it, propping his head up enough to drink the liquid down without choking. When it was drained, he handed back the vial and settled his head again. “...Why did you let me go?”

\---

It took him a while to respond since he didn’t really know why himself. It would have been a fitting revenge for him, would it? He’d tried to kill him, so why help him when it would have been so easy to let fate take care of him for him? “Does it matter? I did, we’re here. I’ll be gone tonight and we’ll never see each other again. I find that satisfactory, don’t you?” Just in case he didn’t, he held his staff close, anticipating an attack. It could be that he was expecting the templars to burst in at any moment to ambush them, but the truth was he was just waiting for the elf to jump up and charge him.

\---

Somehow there was always a little energy reserve left in Fenris for one more attack no matter what state he was in, so he wasn't surprised to see Anders was on the defensive. But his body was relaxed and he nodded, looking miserable and exhausted but far from angry. He'd worked most of that out shedding slaver blood and this man, scumbag mage that he was, had saved his life twice that day. “Very satisfactory. I don't want you dead anymore, mage, but I never want to see you again after today.”

\---

Oh goodie, he didn’t want him dead. He knew Fenris to mean what he said, but he wasn’t going to be letting his guard down with him so close. His hand tightened on the staff and looked off at the wall opposite of him, lost in his thoughts and paying the elf only enough mind to ensure that he was far across the room from him. “Finally, something we agree on. It only took six years.” He tore his eyes away from the distance in front of him and forced himself to focus on his own wounds. He didn’t have the energy to heal them, but he had some salves and bandages in his pack that he’d brought with him and he got to work tending to himself.

\---

“Had to happen eventually.” Fenris closed his eyes, not as wary about Anders being in the room as he normally was. If the mage wanted him dead, he wouldn't have gone through so much trouble healing him. His bleeding was slowing as the potion did its work, but he'd still lost a great deal of blood and the tarp wrapped around him was dark and damp with it in places. It wasn't long before he was in and out of consciousness, his body taking the rest it needed after the wounds and captivity regardless of the elf’s will to stay awake.

\---

When he finished, he returned to sitting vigilantly, though he looked exhausted. This was nothing new as he always had a haggard look to him. Always appearing as if he’d barely slept and that he’d worked himself to the bone. It was true enough. He had poured himself into the clinic in Kirkwall and he drained himself day after day, healing the sick for hours on end. The only breaks he had from it were the missions that Hawke would take him out on and that was hard work from a completely different angle. No, Anders was no stranger to exhaustion and he remained alert as the hours passed. He knew that Fenris had fallen asleep and he was able to set his staff aside, relaxing only marginally. If he was lucky, the warrior would remain asleep through to the evening and he could slip out while he was still unaware to get a head start on putting as much distance between them as possible.

\---

It wasn't long before evening that the elf finally woke. He did so with a start, moving away from the wall his back was against as if it had burned him. His hands were caught up in the tarp and he thrashed, convinced they were bound even after he tore them free. Sitting up far faster than he should have, he looked around wildly, though his vision focused quickly and landed on Anders. Not the person he wanted to see, but a person who at least convinced him that he was no longer captured. He was panting harshly and his hand moved to his aching ribs, but he was quickly calming. He was out and he'd be back with Hawke in a matter of days.

\---

The sudden disturbance startled him onto his feet and he snatched up his staff, pointing it at Fenris while he had his fit. He didn’t know what to make of it, but it soon became clear that he wasn’t being attacked and he pulled the weapon up so he was no longer aiming it so threateningly while the elf calmed. Not so lucky then, but it wouldn’t be much longer until he was rid of him. Rather than acknowledge what just happened, he moved towards the door and peeked out of it to check the state of the area around them. “It won’t be much longer.”

He pulled away from it and looked back to the elf, aware of what bad shape he was still in. “I’ve replenished my mana. Do you want me to finish healing you or would you prefer a salve?”

\---

“I'm fine, I just want to get out of here.” He felt a great deal better after sleeping, but he was still a mess. Fenris pushed himself to his feet, a lot more steady this time, and tied the tarp around himself like a large, very shabby robe. He moved to grab his clothes and armor, deciding he'd stop by the water sometime in the night to wash them and himself.

\---

As expected. “Suit yourself,” he returned back to the crate he’d been sitting on all day and hunkered down, waiting anxiously for night to come. He was safe enough here, but the feeling of freedom he’d been enjoying on the ship, before he realized the truth of the situation, felt threatened. He wanted it back.

\---

He wasn't going to wait for nightfall. He could sneak around easily enough and he wanted to cover a lot of miles in the night. Losing his sword was a shame, but he would get another and his freedom was far more important than any blade. He looked to Anders, not sure what to say. Certainly not a thank you, he would still be with Hawke right now if this man hadn't overstepped that boundary, but he did owe him some sort of courtesy, he guessed. “Safe travels, mage.” The word ‘mage’ sounded slightly less venomous from his lips than usual. Slightly. With that, he hurried out of the room, quite content to never see the other again.

\---

His eyes flicked up and he met his gaze briefly, but didn’t respond to him. He wasn’t surprised he was taking off as soon as he felt recovered and he watched him go. Back to Hawke. He swallowed, having tried to hardest not to think about what he’d left and, more specifically, what he hadn’t. Only a little longer and he could return to focusing on his life ahead as he tried his hardest to forget his life behind.

Not even a full minute passed when limbs began to shake and he felt a rush of anger that was not his own. He questioned the spirit in his mind, wondering what had upset him so, but it increased sharply and his skin began to split with light. “Justice?!” he demanded, not understanding. He usually had control of this except of in the most dire of situations, so something had to be wrong. He rose to his feet and grabbed his staff, looking this way and that, expecting danger to burst in at any moment. Then it became overwhelming and painful, feeling as something inside him was ripping and with a desperate cry, he completely lost control and his face contorted with fury as Justice took over.

\---

Fenris hadn't gotten far when he heard the cry and turned around, knowing that voice well enough after years of fighting at his side. He could see a brilliant light flooding the room they had been hiding in even a few blocks away. He swore under his breath, turning on his heels and running as fast as his body would carry him back to the mage. By the time he arrived, he was holding an arm across his torso, waking up new aches with the sudden exertion. “Have you lost your mind?!” He stared in shock at the abomination who usually was wise enough to stay hidden within the mage.

\---

When Fenris entered the room, his knees buckled and he fell to them, the world rushing back to him, but he was still filled with anger and it was aimed in no particular direction. He hadn’t calmed and though he the blue in his eyes wasn’t as bright as when the spirit completely controlled, he couldn’t push him away as he normally did when tapping into his power. “What is happening?” he gasped, the voice his own.

\---

He looked around wildly for any sign of attack, dropping his armor so his hands were poised and ready. “Was someone here?” Clearly the mage was confused, but maybe the spirit would answer to this sudden outburst. He moved to the window, cringing when he saw a crowd gathering and murmuring amongst themselves about the light they'd seen.

\---

“I don’t know,” he breathed, his fingers digging into the dirt as he tried desperately to regain himself. All he remembered was a rush of anger and then everything was blank until Fenris had burst into the room. He wasn’t even sure how long it had taken the elf to return, though he knew it couldn’t have been more than moments.

\---

“Well, you can't wait for nightfall now. We have an audience and people are talking. Get out of here before they bring guards over.” He snatched up his clothing then, running back for the door.

\---

He couldn’t leave like this, he had to get a hold of himself. “Justice, please!” He needed him to stop, but he wasn’t. Just as the elf reached the door, he shook his head. “Fenris, I can’t.” He looked up at the elf, something desperate in his expression.

\---

He paused, genuinely shocked that the mage would ask him for help. There must be something very serious going on. He stopped and turned back, rushing to the mage and taking hold of his arm. “I'll help you until you figure this out, but we can't stay here. Come, quickly.”

\---

As soon as the hand touched him, the energy dispersed and the amber of his eyes returned. He looked drained and befuddled, but the emotions had dissipated and he was able to scramble to his feet. He could hurry off on his own, but knowing that there was a crowd forming, their best chance was to stick together and truthfully, what had just happened frightened him and he didn’t want to be left alone quite yet. “Go.”

\---

He released Anders when he was upright and moved for the door again, racing out into the streets. He wanted out of here and to get far from town. They'd hit a new town eventually and he could find passage to Kirkwall and Anders could find passage to somewhere else. Anywhere else.

\---

He followed after him, on his heels and trying his hardest to ignore the people they were passing. If the guards hadn’t been close to finding them before, they would be now. The light was starting to fade from the sky and if they could just get outside of the walls of the city, they would be safe.

\---

Fortunately most people were fixated on the building itself and there wasn't much trouble in slipping away. He rushed blindly in one direction, knowing that they had to make some twists and turns to lose any followers, but also knowing that if they stayed in one general direction they'd reach the city limit quickly. “This way.” He murmured breathlessly when the city wall was finally in sight.

\---

  
They were almost there and as they followed the city wall, he saw a gate approaching. There were guards stationed there and his stepped slowed. “We have to act casually, or they will not allow us to pass.” There would be more blood on his hands today and he would prefer to prevent that.

\---

“Follow my lead.” He pulled a bit of his ill-fitting tarp over his head to create a makeshift hood. Enough for a little white hair to to stick out, but his pointed ears were covered. He looped his arm through Anders, pretending to be leaning on him, and hunched, hobbled along at his side. Weak as he felt, it didn’t take all that much acting. “Right now I’m your poor, sick old father living in the slums and you’re taking me out of the city to live with you if they question us.”

\---

Anders startled a little when the arm came around his. Never in all the time that he’d known him had the warrior deigned to touch him. In fact, inside the building just before was the first time, but he’d been too caught up to notice then.. To him, this felt like the first time and it was exceedingly strange. The only touching between them came when he healed him and that was entirely a one-sided affair. It took him but beat to get over it, as there were far more pressing concerns, and he nodded in understanding to his ploy. If they were fortunate, there would be no need to say anything at all.

He began to walk, taking on the role of supporting Fenris with ease. It was far from the first time that he’d had to help someone walk and he had a gentle touch as he guided him towards the gates, as if he really were so infirmed.

\---

The strangeness of touching Anders hadn’t even really crossed his mind. He was used to hiding, sneaking, and doing what he had to in order to escape his hunters and survive. He kept his head low as they walked and for a moment he thought they were going to get through without question.

“Stop there.” A guard said, moving from his post beside the gate to look them over. “There are dangerous men in the city right now. And very ...strange reports. Did you see anything unusual on your way over here?” He gave them both a scrutinizing look and when Fenris felt his eyes on him, he said nothing but gave a dry, weak cough.

\---

“Dangerous men? See, father, this is exactly why you have to come live with me. I’ve told you time and time again that the city is not safe, especially not where you were staying.” He looked up at the guard and shook his head. “I’ve not seen anything. I just came to get my father, stubborn as a hog he is.” Wasn’t that the truth? “Took me hours to convince him to come with me and it’s beginning to grow dark. If all is well, I have to get him home before night falls.”

\---

Fenris said nothing, just gave another weary cough. The guard frowned, studying Anders. “You didn’t come in this way. I’ve been posted here since dawn. Where is ‘home’ exactly?” His eyes raised briefly when he heard some commotion from the direction they’d come from, more people gathering and telling anyone who would listen about a new sighting of the ‘glowing men’.

\---

Luckily, Anders had a firm grasp on geography, a mixture of his studies in the Circle and his frequent plans to escape said Circle. He knew of a few surrounding towns to the city and he answered without hesitation. “It’s not much, but it’s better than here and my wife would be able to take care of him. As you can see, he’s not well.”

\---

After a more dramatic cough with an added wheeze from Fenris, the guard nodded, his brow furrowed. “Right, very unwell.” Not too mention poor, dirty, and reeking. They had plenty of that in the city already and he wouldn’t mind one fewer. “Well, carry on then.” It seemed he would be needed in town in a moment anyway if there weren’t enough patrolling guards to handle whatever the ruckus was about.

\---

Relieved, he continued on, walking slowly as they made their way out of sight. Only then did he break away from Fenris, putting distance between them. “We have to keep moving.” They could go separate ways here, if they wanted, but after what had happened, he felt wary. He wasn’t sure about being on his own just yet, but if the elf insisted, he would have no choice and ultimately it was what they both wanted.

\---

Fenris was all too happy to pull away once they separated and he pushed the hood back. He looked far too pale, even for him, but he had no intention of lying back down until he’d put plenty of distance between himself and the city. “I’m going south until I find some fresh water.” He desperately needed to drink something to replenish the fluids in his body and his last wound would get infected without a proper wash. Besides, it would be nice to get his clothes washed and get them back on. Where there was water, there would also be game and as much as he didn’t like fish, he was hungry enough that he’d settle for nearly anything. “Go where you like, just don’t freak out like that again.”

\---

It seemed the elf did want to go separate ways and he couldn’t blame him. He wasn’t feeling as closed off as he had before, so he just gave him a nod of agreement. If he could just get somewhere safe, somewhere peaceful, it would be okay. “Good luck then,” he replied, leaving it at that. He didn’t like the elf and he resented him deeply, but he’d returned the favor of saving him and so he couldn’t wish him ill. He decided that he would head to the town he’d mentioned to the guard and go from there, so he knew he would have to go east. He started off in that direction, walking quickly and knowing it would be in his best interest to get there before it grew too dark.

\---

“And to you.” Were his parting words before he started south, glad that the evening stars were beginning to mark the darkening sky to guide his way. He marched along quickly, pleased to be off the roads that lead to the city and feel the grass beneath the soles of his feet. He’d find somewhere quiet to rest and mend his body, then find someway back to Kirkwall the next day.

\---

It didn’t take long from the feeling from before to return and he gasped, shaking his head as his steps slowed. “No,” he protested, stopping and trying to get a hold of himself. He tried to reason with the spirit, to tell him not now, but the anger struck him hard and he was soon lighting up the night. No, he was too close to the city for this. He started to run forward, to put more distance between them and then suddenly it felt like he was being ripped into half and, just as before, the spirit took hold of him and raged.

\---

Fenris kept watching over his shoulder as he moved, certain that a guard or even a slaver, would follow him. It was one of those glances that made him see a distant light coming from the east. A familiar light. “Damn it all.” He turned and raced for the distant glow, his hands flexing and wishing for a blade. He sprinted hard and it took him no time at all to reach Anders, once again clearly being puppeted by the spirit. “Where are they?” Fenris snarled, looking around for trouble.

\---

Just as before, when Fenris came close, his mind returned and he took in a shuddering gasp, barely staying on his feet this time. He didn’t even realize the elf was there, since he’d approached from behind and he’d spoken before he came to. “Why are you doing this?” he asked, not understanding. Justice was quiet and he felt a rush of anger that was finally his own, further fueling the power he was taking from the spirit as he remained a beacon for anyone that might be looking for them.

\---

“Why are _you_ doing this? Every time I try to get anywhere you start lighting up.” Fenris moved closer, still trying to find out what all of this was about. “It doesn’t make for a very subtle escape, mage.”

\---

The voice behind him made him jump and he twisted to face him, realizing that he’d drawn him back. This was the second time that he’d come running to his side. Third, really, if he counted what had happened on the docks. “I don’t know what’s happening. Something’s wrong with Justice, I can’t…” Like before, he couldn’t stop it. He felt completely helpless and he lifted his hand, pressing it to his forehead, trying to make it stop.

\---

He watched him with a scowl, trying to figure out what this was. Whatever it was, Anders needed to figure it out quickly or they’d both be cuffed before dawn. His face softened a little to curiosity as he recalled what had happened before and he moved closer. “Hold still.” He reached a hand forward, setting it lightly on the mage’s arm.

\---

He flinched when Fenris reached out to touch him, half-expecting the hand to burst into light and sink into him. When the fingers came to rest on him, however, the evening went dark around them and he was left staring at the warrior blankly. He drew his arm away, pulling it in as if he’d been burned. “I don’t understand.”

\---

“Understand fast because you’ll get us both killed if you keep glowing like that. Talk to that abomination in your head and tell him I can’t keep running back to snap you out of whatever this is.” Fenris huffed and turned to head south again, not wanting to stay in one spot for too long, especially this spot that had been glowing a moment before.

\---

The spirit wasn’t speaking to him and he wasn’t even sure if he could, _something_ was wrong, but finally, as he fell into himself and sought him out, he heard the familiar voice. He frowned and looked up at Fenris, as if confused. “He’s telling me to go with you.” He really didn’t understand it, but he knew that the spirit wouldn’t suggest it if it wasn’t important. “He won’t tell me why, but if he’s telling me to go with you, now. Right now.” The voice was urgent and he knew that danger must be coming.

\---

“Then come with me until he tells you what this is about. Just move.” He snapped and started racing south again. He really didn’t care whether or not the mage followed, so long as they didn’t stay there a moment longer. Not glancing behind him, he ran hard and fast for the south, trusting that Anders would follow.

\---

He was worried enough about what was happening to follow without protest, though he truly had exhausted himself at this point. He was able to keep up, but there was some distance between them as the elf pulled ahead. He ran and ran, until he felt like he couldn’t run anymore. “Fenris!” he called, slowing to a stop and bending over to hold his knees and pant.

\---

The elf skidded to a stop when he heard his name, turning to see what the problem was. His tarp was newly damp with blood from the wound that the potion hadn’t completely mended and it was clear just how much he’d overexerted himself when trying to bend and hold his knees as well lead to him collapsing down to one knee instead. “Do you hear anyone?” He asked between pants for air, unable to hear anything right now except his own pounding heart and something distant that he dearly hoped was a stream.

\---

“No, I have to stop. I can’t go any further.” He’d not slept in over a day and he’d thoroughly exhausted his magic and body without any rest. He had to stop and recover, or he wasn’t going to be able to go any further from where they were. “We’ve gone far enough, we can make camp.” If making camp meant dropping where they were and passing out.

\---

“We can’t light a fire. There’s no food or water here. We can’t stop yet.” Fenris insisted, though when he tried to rise from one knee, he fell right back down. He’d meant to run until he reached water or his body gave out completely, but now that they had stopped, it seemed he wasn’t going to have anything left in him to continue for the night.

\---

He saw him collapse and he sank down himself, still catching his harsh breaths. “We’ll find that later.” Not now. He ended up slumping on the ground, hot and sweating, his body refusing his mind when he had a thought to roll onto his back. He passed out where he was, his cheek pressed to the dirt.

\---

Fenris gave a frustrated snort, but he could see this was the end of the line for now. He let himself drop the rest of the way, curling up in the grass as his panting eased to slow, deep breaths. Sleep came to him so quickly that he had no idea it had snuck up on him, sinking into a deep exhausted slumber the moment he closed his eyes.


	4. Chapter 4

As much as he needed the sleep, the elf woke early as he always did. He felt worse than he had the night before and the moment he pushed himself upright, he knew that he wouldn’t be doing any running that day. With any luck, they wouldn’t be pursued at least for another day or so. He moved to where the mage slept, looking down at him with a scowl. He’d be much further than this if he hadn’t had to keep running back to calm the demon that was just itching to give them away to the guards. But then, he would still be shackled in a ship if not for the mage, so he’d owed him that much. He nudged him with his foot, which was gentler than some other ways he’d woken him over the years. “We have to keep moving.”

\---

He grunted and his eyes cracked open, not quite recalling what had happened the last couple of days. When he did, he looked up to see the elf standing over him and he couldn’t help the flicker of mistrust that flared in him, but he reminded himself that he hadn’t abandoned him when he could have. He felt as if he’d barely slept as he pushed himself up onto weak arms, noting that it was still dark around them. Beginning to lighten, but still dark. It was early. “You couldn’t have slept a few more hours?” he grumbled, rubbing at the cheek that had been pressed to the ground.

\---

“No.” He huffed impatiently and began to walk. Very slowly and with a swaying quality that would have normally suggested he’d had too much to drink. “If you’re coming with me, get up.” If the mage thought he was going to sleep out here in the open for a moment longer than he had too, he was more insane than he thought.

\---

He was slow to follow, bogged down by sleep, but Justice told him to hurry and ruffled as he felt, he picked up the pace, until he was walking behind him. He did feel better, but he would need a lot more rest if he was going to get back to normal. Normal wasn’t asking a lot, considering how poorly he took care of himself, but he was far from it where he stood. He was still in the process of waking up and all was quiet in his mind for now.

\---

He walked a little over in silence, but he was beginning to slow even more. He wasn’t going to stop moving, but he just had very little energy to spare. The way he was beginning to stagger, it looked like he might start walking like the old man he’d pretended to be the day before. “Did he tell you why you’re supposed to go with me?” The elf asked hoarsely, hoping the mage didn’t mean to tail him all the way to Kirkwall.

\---

“He hasn’t,” he answered, looking down at the ground in front of him as he walked. “Whatever the reason, it must be serious. He can’t stand you and he wanted me to leave you on the ship. For him to want me to follow you now…” He tried to prompt the spirit into speaking, but he was remaining frustratingly quiet.

\---

“Well, if he thinks I’m going to do some grand favor for the mages, tell him to forget it. You helped me and for that, I’ll try to keep you from getting yourself killed because of that demon. But if he thinks this has inspired some great kindness from me for your kind…” Fenris shook his head, having no idea what else Justice would possibly want from him.

\---

“I think we both know you’re beyond that,” he muttered under his breath, rolling his eyes. He didn’t _want_ to follow Fenris anywhere, but he had little choice. This wouldn’t have happened if he’d just chosen another ship. Another destination. He didn’t know what the cause of this was, but it had to go back to the slaves he’d saved. That’s when all of this had started. He’d done the right thing and this is what he deserved, apparently.

It wasn’t long until they came upon a stream and he broke away from the elf to hurry over to it. He’d not had a drink in days, not unlike the elf, and he felt his thirst rather acutely.

\---

Fenris was so thrilled to see water that he tried to tap into whatever reserved were left in his body to run the rest of the way. It was a poor idea, given his current state, and when he was still a little ways from the bank his legs gave out from under him. He fell hard, failing to catch himself on weak arms and lying face-down in the dirt, his clothes scattered beside him where he’d dropped them.

\---

Just as he reached the water, he heard a loud crash and he looked over to see the elf laying in the dirt. He felt a flicker of irritation, as he’d been seconds from taking a deep drink, but his concern over what was wrong soon took over and he regretfully made his way over to him. “Are you okay?” he asked, crouching down beside him to make sure he was still conscious.

\---

When the mage spoke to him, his eyes opened but he was clearly disoriented. He looked up at him with almost comical confusion, as if he had no idea how he might have ended up here and with Anders of all people. Seeming to decide this was some weird dream, he mumbled something in his native tongue and closed his eyes again.

\---

He wasn’t sure what was wrong with the elf, unless he’d just hit his head hard on the way down. With a sigh, he drew on his power to send a rush of healing into him, a hand hovering over his head and chest, and weakening himself further. That would not only take care of his head, if it had been so injured, but also help with the wound that he’d refused to let him tend to before. “What about now? Are you okay?”

\---

The healing seemed to bring him around more, but the moment he was aware he moved away from the hand over him. “I’m fine. Let’s get to the stream.” He was unaware that Anders had already gotten to the stream and had to come back for him. He pushed himself up slowly, holding his clothes under one arm as he got to his feet again and motioned for the mage to go with him.

\---

Before all of this, he would have made a derisive joke about the warrior falling on his face like that, but he just rocked back onto his heels and pushed himself up. He watched him as he walked with him to the water, making sure he was steady and wouldn’t be falling over again any time soon. When he got there, he focused on the task at hand and cupped his hands into the water to bring it to his lips repeatedly.

\---

Fenris cupped his hands in the water and drank from the stream until his shrunken stomach felt like it might burst. It felt so amazing, as if the water were some carefully concocted potion to cure all of his ailments. He sat back on the bank, taking a moment to rest and enjoy a full stomach. The rest of his travels would be faster now that he’d finally gotten some water, but he wouldn’t mind staying at this stream for a little while longer, even after he’d bathed and washed his clothes.

\---

When he’d had his fill, he sank back at well, still feeling tired. He shut his eyes and listened to the sound of the flowing water, finding it to be relaxing and peaceful. He had a lot to think about, but in this moment, it felt as if everything would be okay. He would be on his own soon enough and he could stop dealing with this elf that represented everything wrong in the world. To him, anyway.

\---

After a little rest, he began to wash his armor in the spring, a little more sure-footed when he rose again to hang the wet pieces over the nearest tree limbs to dry. Then he took a moment to drink more water, eager to keep his stomach filled, before he climbed into the water, tarp and all. It was fairly shallow, but deep enough that he could completely submerge if he tried and the gently moving water washed away all of the blood, dirt, and grime caked on his skin.

\---

He could stand to bathe, but he would wait. One of them had to be ready to jump up and fight, should the need arise. He utilized the time to clean his wounds. They were doing well and though he could finish them off with magic, it would be better in the long run to just change the bandages and reserve his energy, especially since having just aided the elf. When he was finished, he fixed his hair, which had begun to fall out from the tie he kept it in. He began to question Justice, since the spirit seemed to know something that he didn’t about what was happening to them.

\---

It was a long while before he felt up to coming out of the water, the drenched tarp now only hanging around him from the chest down like a towel. He moved to the tree he’d hung his clothes on and moved behind it to dress, not especially worried about Anders trying to take any peeks at him from around the trunk. He was quite sure the mage was disinterested in anything usually hidden by his armor and that was more than fine with him. Though he knew it wasn’t always sexual interest that drew curiosity to his body. He’d been asked, and sometimes ordered, to undress over the years just so intrigued eyes could see the extent of tattooing in his skin.

When he moved back to the bank where he’d been sitting, he looked and felt so much more like his old self. Clean and dressed in his dark spikes, his hair damp but no longer matted with dirt and sweat. He laid back in the grass rather than collapsing into it for a change and looked up to the sky serenely. If he could rest here a little longer, he wouldn’t have to worry about any more weak episodes like this morning. “I’m sure you know I’m going back to Kirkwall. I don’t imagine you mean to follow me all the way since you were fleeing the city?” Not that he had any idea why, nor did he really care. He just wanted to know the mage would be leaving this journey at some point.

\---

He had been keeping to himself until the warrior spoke and the words he offered made his jaw tighten. No, he was never returning to Kirkwall. There was nothing waiting for him there except templars that would see his head removed if they truly had caught onto what he’d planned. Rather than answer, he changed the subject, thought he imagined they would end up working their way back around to it.   
  
“I need to see your hand,” he told him, turning his head to fix his eyes on him. “Justice needs me to touch you. He has an idea of what’s happening and he tells me that touching you will confirm whether or not it’s what he believes.”

\---

His hands were sheathed within his gloves once more and he clenched them rather protectively at the request. “He wants to do something to me. You said yourself he can’t stand me. Why would I let you touch me if it’s something that demon wants?” He might be on slightly better terms with the mage, but not the thing within the mage.

\---

His jaw tightened even more, a familiar resentment filling him when the elf so blasely referred to the spirit, his friend, as a demon. He was anything but, though Anders was fully aware that their joining had created corruption where there hadn’t been before. He knew better than to think Justice had corrupted him, though it sometimes felt that way; it was very much the other way around.

It had been simple enough to control in the beginning, but he knew, as did his observant companions, that he was getting worse and he’d even admitted to Hawke at a point that he was blacking out more and more. It was his fear that what was happening was a result of him beginning to lose his control completely, but he didn’t want to believe it. It was just the slaves. Something had happened in that fight and… The voice interrupted and told him calm down and to touch the elf.

“You’ll let me because I have no intention of returning to Kirkwall with you and the faster we get this over with, the faster we can be on our separate ways.”

He held out his hand and waited for Fenris to do the same so he could get it over with. He wasn’t going to force the touch, so he would wait for him to consent, reluctant as he pleased.

\---

He looked terribly mistrustful, but he definitely didn’t want to keep turning back to help the mage whenever he tried to go off on his own. With a sigh, he removed a glove, assuming his bare hand would likely have the answer Justice sought, and moved closer. “Lightly.” He huffed, feeling rather good after water and a bath and not particularly wanting the spirit to death grip his hand and give him some fresh pain. He set his hand in Anders’ very lightly and waited, looking ready to pull it back quickly if he tried anything.

\---

His eyes skimmed the markings the hand fell into his and he wrapped his own fingers around it, conscious of his request. He felt a thrum of energy against his skin and he couldn’t help the slight fascination he felt as the lyrium engraved into his flesh spoke to him. His was focused on the hand and his brows came together in a sort of confused curiosity. “He wants you to-...” He paused, before huffing. “He’d like me to _ask_ you to...you know. Glow.”

\---

Normally his suspicion would have only deepened, but at the moment, his scowl was softened with a little curiosity of his own. His lyrium had never really responded to touch, not like this, but he could feel it in the hand holding the mage’s almost buzzing with the need for him to activate it. As if it was attracted to whatever power was in Anders and wanted to mingle with it. With a solemn little nod, not particularly liking the idea of the lyrium having any desire of its own, he brought the markings within his hand to life. It glowed brilliantly in Anders’ hand, radiant in a way that it normally only was in the fiercest of battles.

\---

He’d seen this many times, but he’d never directly touched him while he was like this and he couldn’t help but gasp. It practically felt like he was stepping into the Fade and the energy he’d been lacking diminished as his magic sparked with life. His eyes were wide as he stared at his hand, flicking up to his face only briefly, forgetting that this was for Justice’s benefit. “That’s incredible,” he breathed, not really thinking. In the depths of his mind, the spirit seemed to be drinking in the effects as well, for he too was a creature of the Fade.

\---

“What is?” Fenris looked uneasy, but did not stop his flow of lyrium. Letting it thrum against Anders’ skin seemed to be sating whatever strange need he’d felt in his hand since the contact began, but beyond that he felt nothing out of the ordinary. He hadn’t let his hand rest in someone else’s besides Hawke’s this long in his entire life and he fidgeted a little uncomfortably as he waited.

\---

It took a while for him to realize himself, but Fenris’ question helped to pull him out of his reverie. He blinked a few times and then drew his hand away, the flow of energy between them ending with the contact and the sounds of the world around him returning. “Sorry, I’ve...never felt anything like that before.” He had, but not coming from someone. He’d felt in the Fade, when he came across deposits of raw lyrium - always to be avoided - and most similarly, when he let Justice’ energy come forth to aid him.

Justice was speaking to him and his eyes became unfocused as he grew lost in his mind. His expression slowly turned alarmed and he shook his head. He suddenly scrambled to his feet and moved away from the warrior, a silent argument playing out in his mind. “That’s not right, it can’t be that.” He denied aloud, pacing and looking like he was talking to himself like some insane person.

\---

Fenris was full of questions, but he was equally alarmed by the sudden change in the mage. He pulled his glove back on and put even more distance between them, walking upstream a short ways while his companion seemed to have some sort of inner struggle. He let him pace a little while, stooping briefly to drink a little more water, before he finally decided he could wait no longer for his conversation with Justice to wrap up. “What is going on here, mage? What is this about?”

\---

His eyes snapped over to him and he shook his head, his expression turning furious. “It’s you. It’s your fault. You tried to kill me.” It made so much sense that it was painful. He didn’t know how it worked, he hadn’t known it was even possible, but it had happened and his dreams of starting a new life were falling away from him. “You couldn’t just let me go. You couldn’t just leave me alone, you had to follow me and try to kill me!”

\---

“What does that have to do with anything?!” Fenris growled, his hands clenching into fists. “And who’s fault is that?! I made myself perfectly clear. I told you not to do one thing. I told you not to mess with the _one thing_ that has ever really been mine. That if you did interfere with my relationship, that I would kill you. Not hurt you. I said I would _kill_ you.” He was absolutely seething, all of his anger from that first night rushing back into him.

\---

“I wasn’t interfering!” He couldn’t help but yell, upset as he was. “I was leaving! You’re not the only one that loves him, you know?! I was never going to see him again, so yeah, I kissed him. You should have just gotten over it and you’d still be there with him and I would be far from here already! Instead, I’m stuck with you!”

\---

“You can love him and you can say goodbye without _kissing_ Hawke. What was worse was he-” He cut off there, having to shake his head to keep from really losing his temper when that hurt flooded into him again. It was so much worse that Hawke kissed him back. “You’re not stuck with me, mage. I’m done. You can shine like a beacon for the rest of your life for all I care. I’m leaving. Alone.” The last words were spat venomously and he went back to marching upstream. He’d continue north until he could find a shallow place to cross and continue the journey back to his lover.

\---

“You’ll stop right now, if you don’t want to find yourself host to a ‘demon’,” he snarled, glaring hell at the elf’s back. He didn’t want to chase after him, but he would if given no choice. He wasn’t going to die because of this bastard, though he really couldn’t imagine a life moving forward from this.

\---

“Only abominations like you host demons.” Fenris called back without turning around, continuing on his way. “Consider yourself free of my presence, my insane desire to help you is finally out of my system.” His concern for Anders’ new habit of glowing whenever he was left alone had died with the accusations that rekindled this argument.

\---

It would almost be worth it. To just let him go and take on the burden of Justice, the very thing that had made him so spiteful to him over the years. The spirit didn’t want that however, and it wasn’t as if he wouldn’t be around to find satisfaction in his struggle. He started to trail after him. “You’re not only helping me. You’re helping yourself.”

\---

“It will help me to be far away from you. I thought we might be able to get along for a few days on the road at least, but it scarcely took you a day to turn on me. And you call me a wild dog.” He snorted and when he found a rather sturdy looking stick along the bank of the stream, he paused to pick it up before he resumed walking. He’d reached some more shallow waters and could see fish darting between the rocks of the clear water. As unappealing as it sounded, he needed something to eat and he watched the water for one he might skewer along his way.

\---

As calm as he’d felt when touching his skin, that serenity was long gone and he was seething. In an act very unlike him, he found his steps speeding up and when he caught up to him, he gave him a rough shove as hard as he could towards the water he was walking so close to.

\---

The shove was more than a little surprising and he lost his balance, toppling into the stream. When he looked onto the bank at Anders, he was livid and his skin glowed brightly as he climbed back up out of the water. “How long does it take you to mend broken legs, mage? If I break both of yours, maybe I’ll have time to get far, far away from you.”

\---

The mage stood his ground, but when the warrior came near enough, he lost control of himself and Justice took hold. “You will stop this. He speaks the truth and you cannot be separated,” he told him, his voice echoing through the open air around them. “We cannot be separated.”

\---

“You.” The elf snarled and moved until they were nearly nose to nose, his tattoos glowing brilliantly as he yearned to tear into the body in front of him but knew well that he couldn’t. “I’m separating us right now. Tell him to stop following me. I’m done helping and I’m going alone.”

\---

His hand shot out and he grabbed Fenris’ wrist, attempting to pull himself free from him. He could feel himself there and the harder he tried to reach it, the deeper he fell. The vibrating pulse of the Fade drew him and soon he was no longer searching and instead, he was beginning to leave the body he had come to occupy. Realizing this, he drew himself back almost violently and there was a burst of light between them that threw both bodies back to the ground.

\---

Fenris had winced when he was grabbed and tried to escape the grip of the thing holding him, but he wasn’t able to get free until he was on his ass again in the dirt. “Don’t you ever touch me. I don’t know what you think you need from me, but stay away. Get it somewhere else.”

\---

The shock off the fall was brief and he pushed himself up, shaking his head in the direction of the elf. “It’s too late. You have a piece of me inside you. When you tried to kill him, you reached inside and you broke off a part of me. I have to be whole and if you walk away, it will kill him.”

\---

“You’re plenty whole, trust me. I’m not staying near him. We’ll kill each other either way. Can’t it be retrieved somehow?” He was on his feet a moment later, backing away from the mage. He wanted nothing to do with this, he’d just left a set of chains and he wasn’t about to be chained magically to this bastard.

\---

“I just tried. It cannot. If I went any deeper, I would’ve left him to occupy you. It would have killed him.” It would help no one for him to occupy his body and so he’d pulled away. “If he dies, I will have no choice but to come to you. I have to be whole and you have a stronger call to the Fade than he does. If you separate, it will be his body I leave, not yours.”

\---

“No.” He bared his teeth, backing away further. “No. I will never be a host to you. I will skin myself alive to rid myself of the lyrium before I’d let you control me.” Everything in his posture was defensive, not wanting the mage or the spirit anywhere near him. “Find some way to fix this. Now.”

\---

“I don’t know how. I don’t know how this was possible, it shouldn’t have been. If you had left him alone, this wouldn’t have happened, but you brought it on yourself.” He had never been fond of the warrior and though he disapproved of everything that Anders had done that night, it was his actions alone that had brought this about.

\---

“Silence!” He snapped, not wanting to listen to any of this. He stormed further down the bank, but eventually dropped down and buried his face in his hands. He wanted to be left alone, but it was clear he wasn’t trying to get away for the moment. He’d thought his chains on the ship had been unique and made just to torment him, but the chains he found himself in now were even more so designed for his suffering.

\---

Justice had begun to follow him, but when he stopped and sat down, he gave him distance. He watched him for a time and when it seemed that everything had settled into place for him, he eased back into the depths of Ander’s mind and the mage took in a deep breath as his senses returned to him. He looked this way and that, confused, but then he caught side of Fenris sitting in the distance. He wasn’t sure what had happened, but he could imagine that all had been explained by the elf’s demeanor. His expression was lined with anger, but he made no move to approach him again, feeling the despair of the situation beginning to weigh down on him and that was something he wanted to experience alone.

\---

He still had to get back to Kirkwall somehow. Back to Hawke. But if the mage had fled so suddenly, the templars were likely involved and there would be no bringing Anders until that problem was dealt with. It would be a long time now before he saw his lover again unless he could somehow convince Anders it would safe. And it would actually have to be safe or the mage would die and he’d find himself sharing a mind and body with a spirit. He laid back in the grass, curling up on his side with his face in his arms. His appetite and desire to find food were long gone, but this new distress had brought back his weariness in full force and he just wanted to sleep. Even if it was in broad daylight. He wanted to sleep and hope against hope that when he woke up, this will be resolved somehow.

\---

He ended up sitting down where he was, completely ignoring the man that had ruined everything for him many times over. He didn’t want this with anyone, but why did it have to be him? The person that had been a thorn in his side for years, that had stolen Hawke from him, that would undoubtedly want to return to him as soon as possible. If he couldn’t separate from him, what was he supposed to do? Sit in the other room and listen while they lost themselves in each other’s bodies nightly? No, he couldn’t do it. He pulled his knees in and wrapped his arms around them, his eyes misting ever so slightly as he stared off across the stream.

\---

He was too troubled to actually sleep, but for a long time, he simply let his body rest as he tried to decide what he would have to do. A couple hours had passed before he finally rose again and moved closer to the mage. He didn't get close to him at all, really, just close enough that he wouldn't have to raise his voice to be heard. “We have to get you some place safe. Where were you wanting to go?” His tone was low and free of any emotion, the voice of a man on duty.

\---

He barely shifted the entire time, silently lamenting his situation. Justice had tried to comfort him once or twice, but when asked to leave him alone, he’d gone quiet. When the warrior began to approach him, he heard him coming, but he didn’t turn his head to look at him or do anything indicate that he knew he was there. Upon hearing his words, it was all he could do to hold in a scoff. If there had any doubt that Fenris might not have the full scope of the situation, it was squashed rather effectively. He knew full well that the elf didn’t give two shits about his safety and hearing him actually speak of it now as a concern made him want to laugh.

It almost seemed as if he wasn’t going to respond, but when he did, his voice was quiet. “I was going to make a journey to my homeland.”

\---

“That's where we'll go then.” He didn't know where that was and didn't care. He just needed to keep his body unoccupied until they figured this out. He'd find some way to contact his lover in the meantime and tell him not to worry. “Ready?”

\---

This time he didn’t respond, not having the will to get up just yet. It was years ago that he’d asked the elf if he’d ever considered killing himself when was been a slave. The elf had responded that it was a sin in the eyes of the Maker and that there were some things worse than slavery. _Some things are worse than death_ , he’d replied. This, this felt like one of those things.

\---

“It won't do us any good to sit here. We have to find some way out of this. Other than…” He sighed, staring down at his feet. “Nevermind, let's go.”

\---

He pushed himself up rather abruptly, his entire demeanor hostile as he started to storm away from the stream. “Fine, but if you could kindly shut up, I’d appreciate it.” He wasn’t entirely sure where he was going just yet, but it seemed he was keen to get there at the pace he was going. Really, he just wanted to put as much distance between them as he could. As much distance that wouldn’t see him falling to the ground and having the spirit ripped out of him, anyway.

\---

For once, he obliged without question. He didn't want to talk. He didn't want to talk to him ever again if he could help it. Wanting to scout ahead for any danger, but not knowing where they were going, he moved quickly until he caught up with the mage but he kept far off to one side so they were still nowhere near each other. He hadn't felt so close to his old life as a bodyguard in a very long time and he walked with a heavy heart, wondering if he'd ever know what real freedom was again.


	5. Chapter 5

It had been a couple days as Anders lead them from village to village that sprinkled the countryside, following roads that he’d never been on and relying on the signs he found and his knowledge of maps. It might help him to have an actual map to plan the most effective route, but they were making do. It would be many weeks before they arrived and it seemed the journey would be a silent one. Or it would be outside of his head. The mage and the warrior hardly passed words, even to set up camp at night or to leave in the morning, but the spirit would not give him peace.

He did his best to ignore him, since they were circling around the same argument over and over, but there was always a line of tension in his back and his steps became considerably louder whenever the spirit brought up the subject of their destination. Yes, he knew the Anderfels was not really his home. Yes, he knew that it was a barren land that had little to offer after the blights had ravaged it. Yes, he knew there was no group of people more pious and devout to the teachings of the Chanty. Yes, he knew it held Weisshaupt Fortress, the headquarters for the Grey Wardens that he’d long since fled. Yes, yes, yes.

There were so many reasons why it was a bad idea, but where else was he supposed to go? It was far from the previous lives he’d tried to live and maybe there, in the heart of such a dangerous kingdom, he could do some good. He had the Ander in his blood and if there was anyone that could survive it there, it was him.

_And what of the elf?_

_What about him?_ He seemed content in his role as shadow and the mage had gotten good at ignoring him. Yes, there was the little problem of their unwilling connection, but it wasn’t as if there was any way to fix it. _Justice, if you know a way, I’m all ears._ There was a silence where Anders felt a lick of satisfaction, thinking his point had finally been made.

_Just because we don’t know of a way, does not mean there isn’t. There must be an answer, we just have to find it._

Anders sighed, but all went quiet as he began to consider it. He wanted a way out of this, all of them did, and he wasn’t going to be able to do any good until he dealt with it. He’d known all along that he was going to have to, he’d just been avoiding it and basking in denial. He didn’t notice the way his stride relaxed and even slowed, when he wasn’t internally arguing with his only friend.

\---

Fenris had gotten used to the changes in Anders’ pacing so he wasn't surprised when the mage slowed for no apparent reason. He kept a few steps ahead either way, wanting to keep an eye out for any trouble. There would be trouble, he had no doubt, but he would be happy to steal the sword off of the first highwayman to try to rob them. What a joke that was, since neither of them had a coin to their name. He was fully healed and well-fed, so physically he was prepared for anything. Mentally, he was in shambles.

Knowing that Anders’ life was the only thing keeping him from being possessed, he guarded the mage carefully, chasing off any hungry wolves sniffing around on the road as well as anyone who even looked at Anders the wrong way in the little villages. The role of silent bodyguard was all too natural to him and he did not notice himself slipping into some old tendencies from his days as Danarius’ pet wolf. In towns, he would open doors for the mage and the few times Anders did speak to him, he would give him the slightest bows of his head in acknowledgement. They were small things and he did them unthinkingly, but he'd be mortified to notice them.

They were moving uphill at the moment and he reached the top first, scanning over the quiet roads and fields from this new vantage point with sharp eyes that were hungry for a fight. He still kept a considerable distance from the mage at all times unless they were in town, always far off on one side of Anders or the other. He didn't know how far he could stay away before Justice would rage, but he wanted to stay within sprinting distance either way so staying in sight suited him.

\---

When he reached the top of the hill moments later, he slowed to a stop. He looked searchingly into the distance, with nothing to see for miles upon miles. It would be quite some time until they hit the next village, if memory served. He started to take a step forward, but immediately stilled. He stood there quietly for a time and then dropped his head to pinch the bridge of his nose. Without a word and only the slightest huff, he turned around and started to trudge off in the opposite direction, his footsteps growing loud once again.

\---

Fenris had already started forward when he heard the mage start stomping in the wrong direction. He frowned and turned to follow, confused since he doubted that they were lost. The mage seemed to have a decent grasp on where to go. He had to walk quickly to get a few steps ahead again. “Change your mind?” He had to speak up to be heard, not moving closer for what would likely be a short and frustrating conversation.

\---

The voice made him tense slightly, but he was ever aware that the warrior was there and so he wasn’t startled by the sudden break of silence. “You are a master of deduction,” he replied, only a little heat in his words. He’d not gotten over his anger towards him, but he’d since found it was easier to block him out than stew.

\---

Fenris snorted and moved further ahead. That was an excellent reminder of why talking to mages was pointless. It really didn't matter where they went, so long as he could keep the bastard alive until he figured something out.

\-----

The whole backtracking thing cost them a day, but they weren’t that far from a fishing village, he was pretty sure, so if luck was on their side, they would be able to take what would be quite a long boat ride south, past the place they’d left and beyond. That night, they were far from any people and they ended up stopping to make camp. They gathered logs and twigs and when they had a pit prepared, Anders summoned the fire to light it. After he was warm enough, he busied himself with pulling out some food from his sack to fill his empty stomach. He’d gotten use to barely eating and it was a habit he’d not broken on their travels.

\---

Fenris stayed well away from both the mage and the fire. He didn't have so much as a bedroll and that was fine by him. He didn't doubt Anders would eventually try to kill him in the night, so he settled for cat napping in the grass or at the base of trees. He had found some berries along their journey of the day and he sat at against the trunk of the tree, eating them one at a time to make them last.

\---

When he’d filled his stomach with the meager portions, he began to pull out other things from his bag. Supplies. Empty jars, a mortar and pestle, herbs that he’d collected as they walked, and other various components that he needed to create poultices, balms, and salves. Things that he kept with him at all times, whether for use or to sell. What he did sell, he sold cheap, never able to bring himself to cheat someone who really needed it out of their coin. It was enough to get him by and this was his nightly ritual, whenever he’d collected enough to actually create something.

\---

After his berries were gone, Fenris had napped, sleeping lightly sitting against the tree but opening one eye any time there was a new sound around them. After some time, he rose, brushing himself off as an idea occurred to him. He said nothing but watched the mage with a frown, taking slow steps backward to move further away from him.

\---

Anders was lost in his thoughts and he didn’t notice the warrior moving about. He was grinding away, creating a thick paste that he needed to be as fine as possible. It took a lot of work and his arm would ache in the morning, but it was work he was use to and it was calming. As the distance grew, however, a strange feeling filled him and he paused what he was doing, the beginnings of anger filling his mind.   
  
_The elf!_

It seemed Justice felt it too. The warning made him jump and his head snapped up to see Fenris far away and continuing to back away from him. He was on his feet in an instant, hurrying forward. “What are you doing!?”

\---

“Stay back.” Fenris snapped at him, though he looked intrigued. He dragged his toes across the dirt to mark the spot he'd been in when Anders acutely noticed him. “Go back to where you were. I need to see how far we can get.”

\---

It took a moment, but understanding flooded in and he realized there had been no ill intent. He eyed the distance between them and as much as he hated to admit it, it was a good idea. “Keep going until Justice takes control.” There was no point in testing this if they didn’t test the limit. Then again, the true limit was not Justice taking over, but him dropping dead, but he’d much rather leave that particular distance a mystery. He made his way back to where he’d been sitting, though he remained on his feet, and felt the anger return.

\---

When Anders was back in his original spot, the elf began to back up slowly again. He also didn’t want to know the difference between Justice taking control and Anders dying, so he had every intention of stopping once the change happened. He watched closely for the progression of the spirit inside of the mage the further he moved away from him.

\---

It was hard not to feel uneasy as he watched the distance between them grow, but as much trust that was lacking between them, he knew that he wouldn’t go far enough to kill him. Unlike the times before, he knew what was going to happen and he was able to focus on the growing feeling that was interrupting his calm. It shocked him when he realized that what he’d thought was only anger was mixed with something else. Fear.

Justice was...frightened?

He tried to speak to the spirit, but was given no response and it was about then that the cracks of light split his skin and the intensity the emotions began to overwhelm him. “Keep going,” he called, somewhat strained, knowing that it wouldn’t be much longer.

\---

He had slowed even further with the change but when he was prompted to keep going, he marked the dirt again and resumed the steady steps backward. He was pleased to find that the distance was a little further than he had thought was safe, but he still didn’t think he’d risk going so far out unless it was necessary. It wasn’t going to be much further and fortunately he knew how to fix it once the mage lost his mind completely. Assuming that Justice didn’t come chasing after him to beat him to death for performing this little experiment.

\---

He was beginning to shake - this was a lot more difficult to endure when he was going so slowly. It was drawing out what had been a fairly quick process before and as the pain set in, feeling himself ripping apart, he had to grit his teeth and that wasn’t enough to stop him from sinking to his knees with a cry. Every muscle was tense and his body strained, before suddenly the grow burned brighter and he let out another cry, this time otherworldly.

\---

That was enough for him. Fenris drew one last line with his toes, then made his way closer to the mage with quick steps. When he stopped before him, it was the closest he’d been to him outside of brief stents in town in days and he looked to Justice with an expression very hard to read, but akin to sorrow. He’d touched him the other two times to solve this, but he was curious what his lyrium might do. So as a second part of the experiment, he pulled off his glove and reached out, not touching him but giving him an invitation to take it, the markings etched in his flesh glowing brightly.

\---

When Fenris reached the fire, it was close enough for his mind to return and he looked up to see the odd expression on the elf’s face. His eyes lowered to the hand and he took it without hesitation, effectively extinguishing the spirit’s influence on him. He couldn’t bring himself to let go, though, and his eyes shut as the song of the lyrium soothed him and, more importantly, Justice.

\---

He didn’t understand what it was the lyrium did, but must be important. So rather than withdraw his hand when it seemed Justice had gone, he let Anders keep it and draw what he needed from it. If it was so good, perhaps the mage might be slightly more pleasant for a few minutes at least.

\---

His expression was peaceful and it was as if they hadn’t started to tear Justice out of him. It was minutes before his hand loosened and then fell away and when his eyes opened, his relaxed gaze lifted to find the eyes of the elf. “Thank you,” he told him, saying it on the spirit’s behalf. “Your touch puts Justice in contact with what is broken from him. It calms him.” It was why he needed it when he lose control in this way.  The lyrium on top of it just helped smooth things all the more.

\---

He took his hand back eagerly enough when it was released and tucked it back into his glove. Seeing Anders at peace like this was very strange and he found his own eyes quickly drifting down to the ground. “Whenever something like that happens, I’ll do that for him.” He didn’t get anything out of it, but the way his lyrium engaged with the magic made it one of the least uncomfortable ways to be touched. He nodded toward the lines he’d made on the ground and began to walk, meaning to show him the markers he’d made where each stage had happened.

\---

He saw the way he eagerly backed away and he knew that he didn’t want to be touched by him. He couldn’t blame him, if it wasn’t for Justice’s sake and the lyrium in his skin, he wouldn’t want to either. He appreciated that he’d offered it to him all the same and that he would continue to do so when he needed it. His serene expression faded as the feeling passed, but he still appeared a lot more relaxed as he got up, curious about the distances himself. As they reached each marker, he looked back to where he’d been sitting, getting an idea of what was safe.

“It’s really not that bad, soul ripping aside,” he commented lightly as he stood at the farthest point, having thought that they didn’t have nearly as much wiggle room.

\---

“At least now we know where the soul ripping begins.” He was also looking back to the fire, wanting to memorize the distance carefully. He moved toward the middle line and frowned, deciding that was probably the furthest he should dare to go, even if a battle was forcing distance between them.

\---

That had been the point of this. He trailed after him, also taking in the distance carefully. Satisfied that he had an idea of what was safe, he made his way back to his spot by the fire and resumed grinding his paste. He was in higher spirits than he had been, but his expression turned thoughtful as he began to speak to Justice, questioning him about what was happening to him during all of that. He wanted to know why he’d felt fear and he prodded the spirit gently.

\---

Fenris followed him part of the way, but did not go to the fire. He still kept his distance, but when he settled down in the grass, he chose a spot considerably closer to the mage than the tree he'd been napping against before. He was far enough that he got no heat from the fire, but close enough that he could hear the soft crackling of the burning wood and it soothed him almost as much as warmth would.

\---

His grinding slowed and came to a stop and the thoughtful expression turned concerned and after a time, he nodded to himself. He felt guilty, but Justice assured him that it wasn’t his fault and that it had been necessary and they reached an agreement that saw putting his supplies away and laying out his bedroll. It was time to rest, for both of them.

\---

He watched the mage settle, then closed his eyes. He'd catch a little sleep, but he didn't dare fall under completely. He curled up tightly in the grass to keep warm, letting himself rest for a short while. As long as the night was quiet, he'd wait a few hours to patrol the area, then rest a while longer before rising to clean up the camp before the sun rose.


	6. Chapter 6

It was late in the afternoon that they reached the fishing village and when they got there, it wasn’t as big as he’d hoped. There were a few small boats, but if they could just hitch a ride to a real port and find passage on a ship, they would that much closer to...the barely cobbled together plan he had rolling around in his head. It took a lot of bargaining, but they managed to snag a ride, the cavet being that they had to share a tiny room with a single bed.

Little as he liked this arrangement, he decided that Fenris could sleep on the floor. It would only be a couple of days of sailing and they could get a bigger room with two beds on a real ship. When it was time to board, he made his way straight to the room, every intention of taking a nap, since the constant walking over the past couple of days had exhausted him and he’d missed sleeping with more than a thin bit of fabric between him and the ground.

\---

Fenris seemed very uneasy about boarding the boat after their last sailing experience, but he knew it was going to be necessary. He didn't mind the single bed, not planning to sleep now any more than he had been sleeping on the road. When they were separated or he felt like they were somewhere truly safe, he would sleep. Until then, he would continue to run on periodic dozing.

He was quiet when they boarded, following Anders, but leaving some space between them. He'd stand outside the door to keep watch if the mage went to sleep, then perhaps when he woke, he'd go in search of some proper food. Preferably anything but fish, but he knew better than to get his hopes up here.

\---

He’d managed to slip in a wash both for himself and his robes at the village and he was feeling pretty refreshed, though his robes were just slightly damp. Not enough to make wearing them uncomfortable, they just needed to hang for an hour longer to be completely dry. When he got to the room, he set his bag aside and when it was clear that the warrior didn’t intend on entering the room, all the better, he stripped down to his smalls and climbed into bed, curling up on his side and passing out.

\---

Fenris had peeked into the room when Anders entered, but once he was content it was secure, he had closed the door most of the way. He left it open just a crack, wanting to hear anything unexpected going on inside. Leaning against the wall beside the door, he tipped his head back and closed his eyes. He wouldn't be able to cat nap without at least sitting down, but he could rest a little this way.

\---

About an hour into his nap, he began to shift this way and that and make soft sounds of protest. It didn’t take long for it to escalate and soon he was thrashing roughly in the bed, the blanket falling down to his waist as he struggled against an invisible force deep in his dreams. “No,” he gasped between grunts as his breathing grew harsher.

\---

The early sounds didn't rouse Fenris from his rest, but the gasp put him on high alert. He opened the door and rushed inside, his flesh glowing as he prepared to tear apart whatever was causing the trouble. He looked around wildly, but after seeing no obvious trouble, his eyes fell on the mage and he realized that he was sleeping.

\---

He continued with his nightmare a little longer, his shifting and panicked sounds filling the room, before his eyes snapped open with a shaking inhale. He shoved himself up, unaware of the company he had, because his back was to the door and in doing so, he revealed a few thick scars across the expanse of skin, seeming to be the product of whipping. They were few enough that they stood out on what was otherwise unmarked flesh all over his body. He let out the breath and lifted a hand to cover his face and rub it, calming himself.

\---

When the mage started to settle down, Fenris’ posture eased. It appeared to have only been a dream. He looked at the bare back exposed to him only briefly, not particularly wanting to see any more of him than usual, then turned back for the door. A slow exhale as his adrenaline drained was the only sound he made as he started out of the room.

 

\---

It was quiet enough in the room that the sound made him jump and he twisted sharply, catching sight of the warrior leaving the room. “Fenris!” he sounded shocked and then angry, “What are you doing in here?” He yanked the sheets up to hide himself as he stared incredulously at him.

\---

He froze when he was called, turning back toward him. “You were talking and gasping in your sleep like someone was threatening you. I came in to make sure you were safe. Clearly you are, so I was leaving.” He was still on high alert so little pulses of light ran occasionally through his tattoos, but he was no longer glowing like he had been when he was expecting a fight.

\---

He flushed with embarrassment - it had been a long time since he’d had a nightmare around someone else. They were thankfully rare and when they did creep up on him, it was usually when he was alone where no one could see him fuss. “F-fine,” he replied curtly, since there was little else he could say. He clearly wasn’t composed and he fixed his eyes away from him, waiting for him to go.

\---

He grumbled something under his breath in Tevene and walked out of the room, pushing the door almost completely closed as he had before. He leaned back against the wall against, folding his arms tightly over his chest. Running in for a false alarm was a very minor annoyance, but being fussed at for doing so had him scowling as he closed his eyes again.

\---

As soon as he was out of the room, he hopped to his feet and pulled on his robes, finding them nice and dry. He took a moment to pull up his hair, as he’d let it down to sleep, and then he made his way out of the room, not seeming to notice the elf leaning against the wall as he made his way out to the deck for some fresh air.

\---

Fenris’ eyes opened when Anders emerged, following after him but with some distance between them. When they were out on the deck, he saw some men pulling up nets for crabs. His neglected stomach gave a growl at the idea of food, especially since he didn't particularly mind crab as far as seafood went. Thinking he might earn himself a warm meal, he moved to men and offered to help pull in the nets, pleased that the deck was small enough he wouldn't have to worry about Anders getting too far from him and he could keep an eye on him while he worked.

\---

The mage wasn’t paying attention to his companion, rather his eyes were fixed off into the open ocean, slowly relaxing as he let the dregs of the nightmare faded. Truthfully, he was surprised he hadn’t had something like it sooner, considering what he’d been fleeing from. The man he’d paid passage to for the boat spotted him and ended up coming over to him and he chatted with him for a while, explaining where he was going when he was asked, though he did not state why.

\---

It wasn't like killing, but putting his body to use for something other than walking was very refreshing. The men seemed all too happy to have his help as he hauled up the heavy netting. The catch was fruitful and between retrieving the nets he helped to sort through which crabs were worth keeping to eat or sell and which ones to toss back. It was some time before he finally made his way closer to the mage after the nets had been set again, damp with seawater and looking quite tired but content enough. “Our dinner will be complimentary tonight.” He said quietly, looking out over the water.

\---

By the time Fenris made his way over, he’d been left alone and he’d noticed him helping the men with their catch. He couldn’t quite bring himself to look him in the eye, but it proved unnecessary, as when he spoke he wasn’t looking at him at all. His eyes flicked back to where he’d been working, to where barrels held the crab waiting to be cooked. “So you _can_ make yourself useful,” he commented, but it wasn’t said with the insult he normally would’ve offered him. It was lighter, almost teasing, since he did appreciate that he was being included in the rewards of his effort.

\---

He frowned, but the easier tone kept him from being irritated by it. “I have my moments.” It was his attempt to tease back, but there was no humor in his voice. He moved to the railing to stare down into the water solemnly, finding himself wondering what Hawke was doing back in Kirkwall without him.

\---

“Few and far between,” he quipped with the same tone, but then he looked down at his robes, picking at a worn thread that hung from it. Then he went on, suddenly serious, “Fenris… thank you.” He not only meant for the dinner he would be receiving thanks to him, but the fact that he had bothered to charge into his room when he thought he was in trouble, embarrassing as it was. He wasn’t blind to how protective the warrior had been of him since he’d learned of their dilemma and though he knew it was all in the matter of self-interest, he...appreciated it.

\---

Those words caught him entirely off guard and snapped him out of his private misery. He looked to the mage then, looking surprised and a little unsure. “...You're welcome.” He looked back down to the water, thinking of what both Anders and Justice had said. If he'd just let him go, he'd be home with his lover right now. When he spoke again, it was very quiet. “It's the least I can do. This is my fault.”

\---

His eyes flick up to meet Fenris’, before he broke it again, finding his robes to be even more fascinating that before. It was his turn to be surprised and his brows furrowed when he took fault for the situation they were in. He blamed him too, wholeheartedly, but he never expected him to admit to it. He mulled over his words, thinking of a suitable response and though he’d not included him in his plans to reverse this before, he replied, “We’ll find a way to fix it.”

\---

“There has to be a way.” He watched the water morosely, looking so impossibly tired. The spirit knew more about this than either of them and he didn't doubt he'd find a solution. Preferably one that didn't involve his death.

\---

That was the hope, but he wasn’t crossing his fingers. Everything he knew about spirits and demons told him that it wasn’t possible, but what had happened wasn’t supposed to either, so maybe there was an answer somewhere out there. He could see how exhausted he look and rather than continue the conversation, he nodded towards the hull. “Why don’t you go get some sleep?” He could have used a lot more himself, but he always hard a hard time sleeping after a nightmare and so one of them should at least get some use out of the bed.

\---

He shook his head, though he needed it badly. “I will sleep when we get someplace safe.” He didn't trust a soul on this boat. “I never used to sleep, it can wait.” It was being around Hawke that had really helped him relax enough to truly rest.

\---

“The boat is safe. I will be awake, you don’t have to worry.” He didn’t intend on standing outside the door, but he would be around should something go wrong. He didn’t intend on letting the elf die on his watch. Even when he’d tried to kill him, he couldn’t bring himself to be the cause of his misfortune or his death.

\---

“We can't know that this boat is safe. I thought the last ship was safe until I woke up in chains. There will be some place safer to sleep...eventually.” Definitely not the next ship. But eventually there would be somewhere secure. He looked to the mage, frowning slightly. “...You could probably use more rest. You've slept peacefully in the nights, I've never seen you panic the way you did earlier. If you want to lay down, I will keep watch.”

\---

He wasn’t going to push, not caring enough about what he did to himself, so he was about to end the conversation saying as much, but when Fenris went on to mention what he’d walked into, the flush from before returned, though it was much lighter this time around. “No, when I wake from such...dreams, I cannot sleep.” This conversation was becoming rather surreal, since he’d never exchanged more than a few words with him that wasn’t derision. “I…” He trailed off, thinking about his offer to keep watch and he realized the reason why he struggled to sleep was the fear and paranoia that followed such dreams, but if he was there to make sure nothing happened…

“Perhaps I can try,” he concluded, his voice as quiet as the elf’s.

\---

“...I understand. I have such...dreams, if you can call them that. Ones that make you regret that you ever slept.” Anders was not the only person to wake in such distress. In fact, the mage had already seen him wake in terror once before, and that was only related to his latest trauma. “But if it puts you at ease, I will watch over you when you go back to sleep. I can wake you if you start to dream like that.” As Hawke had grown to do more often than he wished he had to.

\---

He didn’t move immediately, not surprised that the elf suffered in the same way. Didn’t all who lived in such fear? “I imagine your dreams are not all that different from mine.” He knew that the warrior would not take well to him comparing their plights, always of the opinion that mages deserved their imprisonment while slaves did not. He’d long since given up trying to make him see the similarity of the hardships they’d endured and he didn’t intend on trying again, so he left it at that. He stood and started back to the room, wondering if sleep would really be possible knowing that there was someone there to watch out for him.

\---

Normally, he would have scoffed at that statement, but the glimpse of Anders’ back kept his hackles from rising at such a comparison. As he followed him toward the room, he spoke up again quietly. “They are probably quite similar.” His hand moved to his side as he walked, his fingers rubbing gingerly at the ghost of a scar that should have been there, but had been taken.

\---

He brows lifted and when he reached the door, he couldn’t help but look back at him as he opened it. This was, without a doubt, the most civil conversation they’d ever had and they were even...relating? “Are you sure you would not prefer to sleep? It looks to me as if you might pass out on your feet if you put it off for much longer.” Okay, maybe he would press a little, if the elf was not going to be a bastard to him.

\---

He looked to the bed once the door was opened and there was a little longing in him. It had been far too long since he’d slept. But there was something nervous in the way his eyes shifted to Anders and he shook his head. “After discussing this particular topic, I don’t think I could.” Hawke wasn’t going to be there to draw him from his sleep and soothe him until he knew it was no longer his reality.

\---

He gave a solemn nod of understanding and then stepped into the room, shutting the door behind him to but a crack. Unlike before, he left his robes on, though he did let his hair back down before crawling back into bed. As with last time, he ended up on his side, facing away from the door, trying not to think about the nightmare that he was so terrified of becoming his reality.

\---

As before, Fenris moved to lean against the wall. He was so tired and it felt so good just to close his eyes for a little while. It was strange to think that he’d just had an actual conversation with the insufferable mage, but he didn’t dare to hope they’d have any more civil moments like that when the other woke. It likely only happened because they were tired.

\---

It took him some time to fall asleep, but he managed to turn his thoughts away from his fears and for a time, he slept peacefully. Unfortunately, there was a reason he couldn’t bring himself to sleep after such nightmares and knowing that he was safe wasn’t enough to stop the images from resurfacing. It started off as it had before, little quick shifts and soft sounds, his lips barely parted as the nightmare began again.

\---

He was more attentive to the sound of the sleeping mage and this time, it only took a few moments for the elf to realize what was happening. He straightened from the wall and moved to the door pushing it open, though he didn’t rush in immediately. He watched the sleeper for a moment, wanting to be sure that it was in fact a nightmare and not just him shifting in his sleep to get more comfortable before he would intervene.

\---

It quickly built and his sounds grew louder, turning to whimpers, as he started to jerk beneath the blanket. It wouldn’t be long until he woke up on his own, he always did when it got bad enough that he was wrestling away the blanket covering him. Restraining him.

\---

That was all the answer he needed. Fenris moved to the bed, kneeling beside it and slipping off his glove. He found he did that often around the mage these days. His hand began to glow and he very gingerly touched Anders’ shoulder, just a graze at first so he wouldn’t startle him, then a firmer touch as he let his lyrium flow into him. He’d wake him if he didn’t settle quickly, but he thought this may help.

\---

The effect was very nearly immediate. He pulled in a choking breath at the touch, but then he’d grown abruptly silent and still. The air was released slowly and his body relaxed with it, softening against the thin mattress that made up the poor excuse for a bed. His distressed expression had become serene and it was clear that whatever had disturbed his sleep was gone.

\---

It was fascinating to him how quickly it worked, having never needed to use his lyrium this way for Danarius. Perhaps that’s why he didn’t mind doing it for this mage. Deciding he could keep it up for a while to make sure his sleep was peaceful, Fenris settled to sit on the floor beside the bed, leaning against one of the supports. He kept his hand on Anders shoulder, keeping a gentle flow of lyrium running into him, and closed his eyes again, far more comfortable now that he could sit while he continued his guard duty.

\---

Though most of the energy came through his hand, while he was so close the mage could subconsciously feel his presence as the source of the lyrium soothing his body and he ended up rolling on his back, a little bit closer to the elf, his hair feathering out against the pillow as his head fell in his direction.

\---

Moving closer made it more comfortable for him to touch him from the floor, so he didn’t mind the change at all. It wasn’t especially taxing to summon his lyrium when he wasn’t doing much else, so he was able to keep a consistent, small amount of lyrium flowing into him. It was strange because he thought he’d been most comfortable sitting far from the other when they camped for the evening, but sitting here, leaning against the bed and offering a simple comfort to the other man had him the closest to really falling asleep that he’d been in several days.

\---

It was many hours later that Anders woke to the smell of cooking crab in the air. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d woken so...refreshed. Being away from his clinic had helped him in getting more rest, but old habits died hard and even if Fenris hadn’t been waking him up at the crack of dawn each morning, he would’ve been waking himself not long after. Go to bed late so he had time to make his salves, wake early to greet whoever was waiting outside the door, eat only when there wasn’t someone that needed his help - he’d stopped taking care of himself years ago and it definitely showed on his worn body.

Waking now, however, he looked considerably better and the deep bags under his eyes had even softened. His lids cracked open and he gave a staining grunt as he lifted his arms above his head to stretch his body to a chorus of cracks, not unlike a cat might. When he abruptly relaxed out of it, his limbs falling back down, he grew distinctly aware of the figure glowing beside him and he jumped, pulling away from him as he was startled. “Fenris! Andraste’s tits, you scared me!”

\---

Fenris had been so close to sleep that he jumped when the mage did, withdrawing his hand as if he’d been burned. He looked a little dazed as he blinked up at him from the floor. “...I was trying to do just the opposite. It was helping you sleep.” As far as he could tell, it had made a world of difference, at least while he’d been dreaming.

\---

He blinked at him and then looked over at the hand that had been drawn away. There was understanding in his eyes, but he still seemed a little confused, since waking up to the warrior sitting beside his bed was bizarre. “I...had a nightmare?” He asked, foregoing the pretense of calling it a ‘dream’ while he was still a little out of it. If he’d had a nightmare, he couldn’t remember it and that was...wonderful.

\---

He nodded with a frown, rising to his feet with a groan and stretching out his legs he’d had folded for the duration of Anders’ slumber. “It sounded like a bad one. So I thought my lyrium might help. You calmed down right away so I just...stayed.” Perhaps he shouldn’t have, he certainly hadn’t been invited to. But it had worked and he didn’t want to walk away just to have it start again. Especially since he wasn’t actively infuriated with the man, it just didn’t feel like the right thing to do.

\---

He’d told him that he would wake him up if it happened again, but the fact that he sat there and used the lyrium in his skin to help him sleep was something else entirely. He couldn’t help but stare at him, unable to believe that he would show him such a kindness. He wasn’t sure the last time someone had showed him such selflessness and that it was Fenris felt wrong. “That’s incredible.” It was all he could think to say. Not only that it had worked, but that he’d done it at all. “I’ve never heard of anything like that before.” He wasn’t just talking about the markings themselves, but what they did for a mage like him. Ever since he’d held his hand the first time, he’d been curious about that particular aspect to them, but he’d been too angry to really put much thought into it and even when he’d used them to sooth Justice, his focus had been on the spirit.

\---

“I had no idea whether or not it would work, but it seemed to.” He’d never been stared at quite like that by the man and it made him appear very interested in the process of pulling his glove back on, but at least his words had made him feel better about having stayed at his bedside.

\---

He saw him pulling the glove back on and before he could stop himself, he spoke suddenly, “Wait.” He immediately cringed, wishing that he hadn’t said anything, but since it was already out there, he continued on tentatively. “It’s just, well, can I see? It’s interesting.” He wanted to feel it again, this time while he was awake, partly to analyze it and partly because it just felt nice.

\---

He froze when he was interrupted, almost not sure what he was talking about at first. He wanted to see the markings? No, of course not. He wanted to draw more of the lyrium. There was no question that it was interesting and honestly, Fenris was very curious about it. It had never been used for anything but violence before. Moving to take a seat on the bed next to Anders, he took a moment to realize he’d probably never really sat beside the mage in their years of knowing each other. He offered his hand, but tentatively, letting the lyrium light the marks in his flesh again. “Don’t touch the tattoos too hard.”

\---

He was surprised when he sat down next to him and he was beginning to wonder if there was something wrong with him. He’d never willingly come so close to him and yet he stayed by his side while he slept and sat beside him without hesitation. This was not the Fenris he knew in Kirkwall, the one who would go out of his way to avoid coming anywhere near him. Perhaps a demon had somehow gotten into him. Joking as it was, he felt Justice bristle at the thought.

His eyes fixed on the offered hand and he reached for it, pausing with his fingers hovering over it. He could feel it from there and settled his hand on top of Fenris’, the thrum of energy made his senses sing and his eyes fell shut as they seemed to every time he was exposed to this touch. It felt oddly familiar this time and he reasoned that it must be because he’d been exposed to it for so long that day. “You’re like a walking mana potion,” he murmured, not really thinking about what he was saying, “but better.” That wasn’t even right, though. It was more like he was a walking Fade.

\---

“Don’t say that too loud when we’re around slavers, mage.” He snorted, but the usual venom wasn’t in his tone. It was almost light enough to be a joke. He was quite curious about the utility of this though, so he was more serious when he went on. “So if we get into a battle and you’re depleted...I could restore your mana?”

\---

He gave a lazy smile, “Think of the coin we would save.” He was too blissful to really be considering the benefits of this. He really did mean to analyze it, it was just kind of difficult to focus when he was under the influence.

\---

Was Anders...smiling? Around him? This was even stranger than he thought. He frowned uncertainly, fidgeting where he sat but not withdrawing his hand. “...Can I just restore your mana? Or would I make your spells stronger?” He wasn’t sure how it worked with them and he certainly wasn’t going to be a portable power source for anyone, but if someone was dying and Anders needed help to save them, that was different. Especially if he himself found himself will multiple holes poked into him like he had getting off the slaver’s ship. Not only would he accept magical healing in that case, but he’d be fine with powering it as well.

\---

His eyes snapped open at that question and he seemed to gain some of the focus he’d been struggling with. “...I think it would. The same way my powers are stronger in the Fade, I bet they would be if I were touching you.” This was beyond bizarre, but it was so fascinating and he wondered why it wasn’t more well-known.

\---

He smirked, but it was humorless. “Good. That bastard made me a mage’s best ally, but he didn’t realize that he did it and never took advantage himself...I find some grim satisfaction in that.” He sighed, but decided it was best to focus on the task at hand. He intensified the glow in his hand, curious if it would make a difference or if it was the connection between the two of them that mattered. “Anyway, that is good to know. In dire situations, we could use that.”

\---

The words that followed made his hand loosen on Fenris’ and his eyes flicked briefly over his face, no longer certain that they ought to continue, but the rush he felt when he pushed more power into it kept him from pulling away. “Yes, good.” he replied quietly, and after a moment of indecision, his hand tightened ever so slightly. It was a weak attempt at comfort, but knowing what Fenris had done for him earlier made him want to try.

\---

He felt the difference and he looked to the other, his green eyes uncertain. He didn’t know if it was actually meant to be a kind gesture or if it was in response to the change in intensity in the lyrium. Given the timing, perhaps it was the former. He gave a little nod, then decided to ask one more question about the lyrium. “Did you notice a difference when I changed it?” He asked, withdrawing some of the lyrium for demonstration, then intensifying it again.

\---

He looked down at their hands as he varied the intensity and he nodded. “There’s a difference,” he confirmed, feeling it grow to near intoxicating levels when he did that. His magic was thrumming and it was difficult to bring himself to pull away, but he did. He still felt incredible and he shook his head to himself, in disbelief that he could do so much with a touch. “When you do that, it becomes so intense.”

\---

Fenris was a little relieved to have his hand back, curious as he was about all of this. He nodded and finally pulled his spiked glove back on to cover his skin. “We'll make use of it when we need to.” He stood then, taking a couple steps toward the door. “Come, we should see if those promised crab dinners are ready.”

\---

He was left sitting there, trying not to marvel any more than he already had. He pushed himself up and he started after him, but paused when he realized he’d forgot his hair tie and he went back to snatch it up and pull his hair into place, before heading out. He was feeling better than he had in some time, but he knew it wasn’t a feeling that would last. He’d gotten away with the touch today for the sake of ‘experimenting’, but he knew better than to think that he was be given it again unless it was, as he said, a dire circumstance.


	7. Chapter 7

The transfer from boat to ship was simple enough and as they boarded the giant vessel, it was the first time that the warrior learned of their destination. They were going to Orlais, which was a far cry from the Anderfels before, not that Fenris had known the specifics the original plan. The further he’d moved away from it, the more Anders realized that it had really been a terrible plan. He wanted to believe that he could have done some good there, but the danger was great and perhaps in some way he’d craved that. Throwing his life, quite literally, into a cause was what he’d come to and with nothing else to live for...perhaps he’d already been seeking a way out.   
It was almost as if joining with Fenris had given him some sense of purpose, even if it was only to unjoin them so he could go on his crusade to make a difference alone. Whatever it was, Orlais was where he decided their best chance at finding an answer was and as they made their way to the room they’d purchased with their diminishing reserve of coin, he couldn’t help but be on alert. This ship was the biggest he’d ever sailed on, home to merchants moving their wares and travelers seeking distant lands, which meant there were colorful characters around every corner.  
The room was better than the last and, more importantly, it had two beds on opposite sides. He didn’t hesitate to claim the one he wanted, furthest from the door, and set his sack on a nearby table. “Home sweet home, at least for a few weeks,” he commented, running a finger over the surface of it and lifting a considerable amount of dust. “Seems about right.” He dropped onto the bed and gave it a test, finding it a lot more satisfactory than the previous one.  
\---  
Fenris said nothing at first, following along and moving to the other bed. It looked wonderful after so long without so much as a bedroll and he settled onto it, stretching his limbs like a cat. It felt every bit as good as it looked and while he didn't smile, for the first time in a very long time he wasn't actively frowning. He'd have to find some work around the ship to earn a little coin so beds might be an option more often. “Why do you think Orlais will have our answers?” He asked, though his eyes were closed. When he'd first been told of their destination, he'd nodded and hadn't questioned him, but he was curious.   
\---  
Anders watched the warrior get comfortable and he wondered if he’d actually put the bed to proper use; he knew that he hadn’t had real rest in some time. When questioned, he took off his staff and set it aside, getting a little more comfortable. “Truthfully, I’m not certain that it will. The place that is most likely to have answers is Tevinter.” He knew hearing that wouldn’t sit well with the warrior, so he quickly went on, “Since I do not consider that an option, it seems to me that the next best thing is the University of Orlais or more specifically, the library and archive that it boasts. It’s information that I need and since I cannot call on other mages for it, I will just have to find it myself.”  
\---  
The word was enough to make him sit bolt upright, his heart pounding in his ears. They weren't going to Tevinter. He heard him say it, but it still took a long moment to convince himself that he'd heard it correctly. “Library…” Was what he finally said, his voice tight and a little unsteady. “So it might be in a book. Or an archive?” The way he had to focus on the word suggested that he wasn't sure what it was, but he wasn't about to ask and make himself look foolish.   
\---  
The reaction spoke enough to how he felt about that idea. It hadn’t really crossed his mind as a possibility. Even if he were alone, he would be hard pressed to go to the Tevinter Imperium, even if it was the only place he could live freely. As much as they disagreed on, their feelings on blood mages were all but one in the same. “It might,” he agreed, lowering his voice into soothing tones that he often used with patients, “I imagine any materials on the subject would be hidden from the public eye, but there must exist...something.”  
\---  
The tone seemed to have some effect because Fenris’ posture relaxed just a little. “I won't be much help in a library, but I'll do what I can.” He shook his head. “But if we don't find it, we can't go to Tevinter.”  
\---  
“If I ever intended on going, we would already be on the way there. They know more about demons than I ever will and if there is a way to remove a demon, or a spirit,” he was quick to tack on, wanting to make it clear that there was a difference, whether Fenris believed it or not, “from a living person without killing them, I imagine they would know it. I’ve never heard of demons breaking into two, but perhaps such things happen there, I don’t know.”   
“But I would not take you there,” he went on, still soothing, “nor do I wish to be there.”  
\---  
He nodded, glad to hear him say it. “I...appreciate that. I would be willing to discuss our other option before I'd agree to going back there.” The option that had continued to go unspoken between them, which was something else he appreciated though he was sure it crossed the mage’s mind from time to time.   
\---  
“Other option? To think you’d rather take on the ‘demon’ in my head than go back home.” He, of course, figured that he spoke of the separation that would result in his death and the transfer of Justice into his body. He said this lightly, trying to keep the mood from getting too dour, though the fact that he’d rather become what he hated than step foot on the land he’d escaped said a lot. He wasn’t put off by what he thought Fenris was suggesting, since he didn’t intend on going and there would be no reason for them to seriously get into that ‘option’.   
\---  
He looked a little confused for a moment, then shook his head. “No, I was speaking of the simplest option. The one that makes your ‘spirit’ whole again and sets you free.” He cocked his head a little, a thoughtful frown on his lips. “Most mages in your position would have tried to kill me at least once by now. ...I can respect that you haven't so much as mentioned it.”  
\---  
It was clear from his blank look that he was missing something. What option fixed this and didn’t result in him dying? When he went on, his brows shot up as understanding dawned on him. He hadn’t really considered what would happen if the warrior died, too fixated on not dying himself. “Oh, good point,” he replied, almost as if congratulating him for coming up with something he hadn’t thought of. “I guess that really would be the simplest option, huh?” This was said thoughtfully, but in a way that suggested he wasn’t really considering it.  
\---  
“It would be. Kill me and it's like this never happened.” He watched the mage with a look that almost showed amusement, shocked that he apparently hadn't thought of it. “But kindly wait until our options come down to that or Tevinter before seriously considering it.” He'd been ready to stop Anders if the other made an attempt on his life. But now, more than ever, he doubted he really would.   
\---  
“Well, either that or Justice would possess your dead body. It wouldn’t be the first time,” he replied cheerfully. He doubted it, since whatever was inside of him seemed to have no control of itself or over him. “I would prefer that neither of us die, if we can avoid it, so let’s just focus on the library, what do you say?”  
\---  
He shuddered visibly at the thought, a scowl on his lips. He loathed the thought of being puppeted, but at least he wouldn't be around to know about it. “Then we agree on the plan. We both stay alive and we hope there is something in the library. However long it might take you to look through all of those books.” It was still the best option they had and he sighed.   
\---  
He hummed in agreement, though his own mood sank at the thought of how long it might take. He would be stuck in a library pouring over books day after day, wasting time that could be used to help others. There was an itching thought in the back of his mind, one that hadn’t fully surfaced, but that the spirit was encouraging. The University wasn’t the only thing to find in Orlais, there was also the Grand Cathedral and the Divine.   
\---  
He sank back down onto the mattress, his heart having slowed now that he was assured he wouldn't be walking back into blood mage territory. Danarius’ territory. “The mages in Orlais aren't fond of elf slaves, are they?” His tone was dry, suggesting he meant it as a joke.   
\---  
“Slavery is outlawed there, mage or otherwise, you’re in luck.” From what he knew of the place, elves often lived as servants there, but that was different from slavery. Even when it wasn’t. He was tempted to make his way out of the room and explore the ship, but he knew that doing so would force the elf to follow and he looked like he needed the rest, so he ended up sinking back into his pillow himself.  
\---  
“Then perhaps a little time in Orlais won't be too bad.” It wasn't anywhere close to where he wanted to be. But it wouldn't be terrible and it might hold the key to their separation. He wrapped his arms around his pillow, closing his eyes and at least for the moment, looking completely serene.


	8. Chapter 8

Several days later, Fenris had made his rounds to look for any odd jobs he could do for food or coin and had scrounged up enough little tasks that he had something of a schedule. Pulling in the nets in the morning and evenings, cleaning the deck, helping merchants set up their wares to peddle to the other passengers, moving cargo around whenever supplies were needed. It was enough to keep him busy and they were all tasks he could do while keeping an eye on Anders. As it was, they hadn't had to pay for a meal since their first night on board and each day he had a few more coins to stash into their meager savings. It took his mind off of the lover he missed and the latest chain he wore, so this morning, like the others before it, he woke Anders early so the mage could eat his breakfast, undoubtedly eggs and salted bacon again, on deck while he helped pull in the morning catch.

This was no humble fishing boat, so rather than tug up nets by hand, this ship had a pulley system to haul up much deeper nets and far more impressively sized sea life. It was still backbreaking work, but the pulleys made it much smoother. Until, of course, one of the ropes snapped. One of the deckhands tried to catch the rope before the netting fell and he was tugged right up into the pulley, the bones of his arm making a horrific sound as they were crushed and mangled by the gear.

Most of the other men were young and inexperienced and they simply stared up in horror as the dangling man began to shriek. The more seasoned seafarers were at least looking for some way to pull him down, but it would be next to impossible without completely tearing his arm away. Without thinking, Fenris stole the knife off of the belt one of these deckhands wore and started to scale the support that held the pulley. He would cut the rope from the other side and hopefully it would dislodge the man. His eyes darted briefly over the deck, trusting that Anders was more than close enough to hear the screaming and that he would be there to help once he got this man down.

\---

While Fenris found work around the ship, Anders found his own way to pass the time. He’d found a herbalist that sold her wares on the ship and after a conversation, he’d started to work with her. In exchange for helping her make salves to sell, he was given supplies and coin of his own. Not much, but it was something. It was usually after breakfast, when Fenris finished his morning tasks, that he went to her and passed the hours. Sometimes if a passenger came by seeking a remedy for a problem, he would examine and advise them. The woman didn’t mind, as long as he didn’t send customers away with recommendations that lost her sales.

He was just finishing up his food when the sounds of screams colored the morning air. His head whipped into the direction they were coming from and he jumped to his feet, hurrying towards the action instinctively. A horrified crowd had gathered and he had to push his way through, his eyes lifting to see what they were staring at. His own widened as he saw his companion climbing up to free a man whose arm seemed to be caught in the mechanisms of the ship.

“Everyone, out of the way!” he yelled, turning to start corralling people back and making room for when the man was freed.

\---

It was quite tricky to pull the man in so that he wouldn't drop to the deck when he was cut free, but he managed it and when he could stretch far enough to cut the rope, the man’s screams reached a whole new pitch as he fell away from the pulley, his entire forearm a mangled mess with bones jutting out of his shredded skin. Fenris held the knife in his teeth and pulled the man over his shoulder so he could carry him back down the beam. He dropped down the past few feet, landing gracefully despite the man he was supporting. His eyes found Anders immediately, carrying the shrieking, bleeding man to him.

\---

“Over here,” he told him, guiding to him a dry patch of the deck that he’d cleared, his voice commanding. He was in his element here and it wouldn’t be the first time he had to tell the people around him what to do in order to help the injured or dying. As soon as he was placed on the ground, Anders was on his knees beside him, looking over the injury. It was really bad, but his expression didn’t betray this and he was the picture of calm, despite the man screaming himself hoarse in front of him.

Treated normally, the man would lose his arm. The bones had been pulverized and there would be no setting it and giving it time to heal. He had a choice to make, to treat it without magic and leave the man a cripple, or treat it with magic and make it so the accident never happened. Really, there was no choice at all and in spite of the danger of exposing himself to a ship full of people, his didn’t hesitate hold his hands over the arm and give them all a spectacle.

This was worse than most wounds he had to treat and with the bone damaged as such, he drew heavily from his reserves as he set it right, passing his hands over it repeatedly. The bones came together first, then the muscle, then the skin, and the entire time his eyes fixed intensely on the wound, so concentrated that someone could walk up and knife him in the back and he wouldn’t notice. To the man, the pain would ease away from to be replaced with warmth.

\---

It didn't take much healing for the man's screams to quiet to whimpers. Though there were gasps and disquieted whispers around them, the deckhand didn't seem alarmed at all. “Thank you…” He whispered hoarsely, weary with blood loss and closing his eyes.

Fenris glared at the crowd, daring them to say or do anything to interfere. ...Though if he were among them and he saw some mage he didn't know performing magic, he may have been the one to interfere. But not when a man's life was at stake. He didn't want to watch the healing, unnerved by the unnatural mending process, but he did keep glancing down at his comrade to make sure he was alright.

\---

When the arm was returned to normal, his hands fell away and he slumped back, the weariness hitting him, but he was able to push it away after taking a moment to pull himself together. “No need to thank me,” he told the man, offering him a kind look as he took hold of his arm and gently lifted it so he could test that it was functioning normally. He eased it this way and that, satisfied to see that it moved without trouble or pain.

He rose to his feet moments later, asking who was in charge of these men. When a man stepped forward to claim responsibility, he walked over to him to explain that the man would need to rest and that it would be best to deposit him back into his room.

\---

The man seemed relaxed but exhausted as Anders tested his arm, looking as if he would fall asleep there on the deck. When the mage spoke to the man in charge, Fenris realized he was still carrying the knife he'd stolen, wandering toward the man and offering it back with an awkward apology. The deckhand was so stunned by everything he'd just seen, he nodded and said nothing at all as he took his knife back.

\---

Assured that the man would be taken care of, he turned to face the rest of the ship and froze when he became aware of all the stares. “Oh, right…” He made his way towards Fenris, scratching the back of his head sheepishly, “Nothing to see here, everyone, just your average every day miracle. Carry on!” He started to make his way through the crowd and they quickly parted to give him plenty of space as he headed back towards their room. Perhaps that would be a no to making salves for today.

\---

Fenris snorted under his breath, somehow not surprised that he would address the crowd in such a way, and followed him back to their room. He likely wasn’t anywhere near as tired as Anders after the eventful morning, but he was leaving a little trail of blood behind him shaped like the balls of his feet and a couple of his toes. He hadn’t even noticed how much the support beam had cut up his feet, certainly not meant to be scaled the way he did it, and even now it scarcely bothered him and he could have easily gone back to work. But since the mage needed to go to their room anyway, he wouldn’t mind the idea of picking the splinters from them and bandaging them.  It wasn’t until they were out of earshot from everyone else that he spoke up to the other. “...Thank you. For helping him.” He had nearly called for the healer when he went up after the man, but he knew he could count on Anders to be there and ready to help. That assurance was...nice.

\---

His eyes flicked over to him and he regarded him curiously, unsure why he was thanking him. When they got to the room, he sat down on the edge of his bed and cocked his head slightly, continuing the conversation. “I always tend to those that need it. Did you think I would not?”

\---

He took a seat on his own bed, picking up one of his feet to look at the underside and wincing at the sight of it. He was hoping for big splinters he could pull out by hand. As it was, he had no knife to get out the little ones. Not to mention that he didn’t have bandages either. He set his foot back down and started digging into the bedside table in hopes there were some complimentary supplies around since he still had no travel gear with him. “I knew that you would. ...I guess that’s what I’m thanking you for.”

\---

He noticed the blood on his feet as he pulled it up and his brows came together briefly, before realizing how he would have injured himself. Knowing better than to think he would want his assistance, he reached for his sack and pulled out one of the salves that he’d gotten from the herbalist and a crafting knife. He stood up and carried them over to him, offering them, “Well, if it hadn’t been for your quick thinking, he would have bled out.” They both deserved credit for saving the man’s life.

\---

The glance he gave Anders was a grateful one and he took the supplies so he could start getting the bits of wood out of his feet. “We both just did what comes naturally. I doubt he’ll be the last person we help before we reverse this.” He would never have imagined the two of them to be a decent team, but perhaps they would do some good together before they parted ways completely.

\---

He went back to his sack, this time seeking bandages for when he was done and as he searched, he couldn’t help the slight smile on his lips. Though he’d been to his clinic a handful of times, always trailing after Hawke who had some reason or another to seek him out, he’d never really acknowledged the work he did. Not that he did it for acknowledgement. He did it for himself, helping the thankless and the thankful alike, but coming from someone that had always seemed to think he was the epitome of evil, it was kind of pleasant.

“No, I imagine not.” He turned to return, this time setting the bandages down beside him, before returning back to his bed.

\---

“I’ll pay you back for these.” He mumbled as he worked, the process slow and painful, but natural. Something he far preferred to healing when he could afford it. He didn’t like that he was currently in a room that had been bought with Anders’ coin and that he had nothing to his name for the moment. That was why he’d insisted on finding as much work as possible - not just to pass the time and save up some gold for when they were off the ship, but because he felt he needed to make up for his lack of supplies. After so many years yearning for independence, he was not about to start relying on a mage, even if it was a mage that he was starting to understand would not ask anything of him in return.

\---

“That? Don’t worry about it. While we’re stuck together what’s mine is yours and all that tripe.” It was best that they did all they could to help each other out. He shifted back to lay on the bed, allowing himself to rest. He’d worn himself out in a short time, but he was use to work himself harder than that regularly and he just needed a little time to recover. “Besides, you’re the reason I get to eat something other than stale bread every day.”

\---

That actually brought the slightest of smirks to his lips as he worked, clearing away the last of the splinters from one foot and smoothing on the salve. “I suppose we’ll call it even then.” His eyes shifted to him briefly and he remembered the way he’d slumped when he’d finished healing the man on the deck. “It looked like that took a lot out of you.”

\---

“Surely you saw his arm,” he remarked, a light sarcasm in his voice. Despite all the excitement that morning, it seemed he was in a good mood. A better mood than he’d been in some time. “You’d be tired too if you had to put that mess back together.” He slipped his hands beneath his head and rested on woven fingers.

\---

He had no idea how tiring it would be, unable to relate to something like mana fatigue. So he said nothing and finished wrapping the foot he was on. He was still unfinished, but he stood and slowly made his way over to the other bed. This would be brief so he didn’t bother with his glove to get the most contact, instead just reaching down to let his palm settle on one of Anders’ arms. His skin lit up with his lyrium then, trusting from their previous experiments that it would help to recharge him. It seemed like the least he could do since he’d counted on the mage for once and had not been let down.

\---

He saw him approaching from out of the corner of his eye and he looked up at him, somewhat wary, but he realized what he was doing as he reached for him. He couldn’t really react before he was flooded with replenishing energy and he sighed, his eyes falling shut as they had every time he’d touched him like this.

\---

He saw the reaction in him and watched serenely. It was an interesting ability to have and while he was ever so thankful that Hawke wasn’t a mage, it would be nice to be able to soothe his lover just like this. Anders had looked like he needed this and so he didn’t mind giving it, standing there and pouring lyrium into him for several minutes before finally withdrawing. He made his way back to his own bed without a word, sitting down and lifting his other foot so he could start the process over.

\---

When it came to an end, it took him a while to open his eyes, but when he did, he ended up rolling to his side, tucking a hand beneath his cheek as he watched him work. “You know, you’re not so bad,” he told him by his own way of thanks. Everything that had happened between them had been a disaster, but they’d never gotten along better than they had since it.

\---

The elf snorted, but now he really was smirking, even as he worked a bit of wood from a tender place in his foot with the knife. “You’re not so bad either. For a mage, anyway.” His tone was dry, but without animosity. Really, he was beginning to think that Anders wasn’t a bad person at all. It was just unfortunate that he happened to be a mage. Otherwise, he might be alright. But since he did have to be stuck with a mage, at least it was Anders.

\---

He smirked right back, amused by his response, before let his eyes fall back shut. He wasn’t tired anymore, but he felt so good that he wasn’t in any hurry to get back up. “Well, look at us. The other’s would be proud I think, once they picked their jaws up from the floor, of course.” The expression was lingering on his lips, thinking fondly of their companions that he would never see again.

\---

“They’d never believe it. They’d think we were putting on an act for them.” He could hardly believe it himself. A conversation with Anders that he was actually _enjoying_. Perhaps he was going crazy from too many days at sea. He smeared the salve over his foot and bandaged it, content that the job was done as he put the supplies away.

\---

His eyes snapped open and he snickered. “An act? You? They’d believe I was acting without a doubt, but they’d probably think I’d cast some ‘spooky friendship curse’ on you.” That was less of a statement about what the group thought he was capable of and more of a statement about what they would believe Fenris was capable of.

\---

“You have a point, but they would know better. If you could curse me, you’d curse me to never speak, not to be your friend.” Though he felt he should get back to work, he took a moment to lay back into his own bed since Anders seemed to need some more rest anyway. He curled up there, so pleased to have somewhere soft to lay even if he had yet to use it for any real sleep.

\---

“You’re right, that’s exactly what I’d do. It would be a blessing.” He grinned and ended up rolling back the way he came, looking up at the ceiling. He couldn’t believe that he was joking back and forth with Fenris, but he hadn’t felt this normal in years. He didn’t know why, but it was nice and the warm feeling it gave him was almost as pleasant as his lyrium touch.

\---

“Maybe the library will have something for that. If you can’t part us, perhaps you can at least get that curse to work. But then, I have a bad feeling that curse would come with a side effect of my mana potion ability drying up for you.” He was still smirking, even as he closed his eyes for a little rest. “And you had best couple it with that friendship curse or you won’t like the other side effects either.”

\---

“I do suppose that would be a shame. You’ve never been handier.” Really, that trick was one of the most amazing things that he’d ever seen and he appreciated how generous he’d been with it. He wouldn’t have expected that from him, but he also wouldn’t have expected a lot of things that had already passed from him.

\---

“Best to keep your spooky curses to yourself then.” He was curious to know if there would be anything in the library about his lyrium’s interaction with the mage, but he highly doubted it. Danarius had taken great pride in his rarity and so, chances were that little to no literature on the subject would be available.

\---

“If I must,” he conceded, his amused expression fading into something relaxed. He wouldn’t stay like this all day, but he did think it best for him to stay in for the remainder of it. After the scene he’d caused, though arguably the pulley had caused the scene, it would undoubtedly be best for him to lay low and give people time to forget that they had a mage aboard.

\---

He was content to rest there for a good chunk of the day as well. The elf was still and quiet, everything about him suggesting that he may have actually fallen asleep. Until of course, any stray noise disturbed him and he would open his eyes to check the room and the mage before settling again. Still, it was some of the best rest he’d gotten in some time and when he rose from the bed he did feel refreshed. “I’d best get back to work. Are you ready to go?”

\---

He had dozed here and there, but Fenris got up, he was awake and his eyes opened. He hummed and pushed himself up, stretching as if he’d just woken up after a long night sleeping. “I suppose I should do something more productive than lay here, pleasant as it is, but I think I might stay for now. With all those stares I got earlier, I’d rather give them some time to forget about me before I head back out.”

\---

The words made him pause and he looked down to him with a conflicted frown. “...I don’t think I should go then. I’m sure they’ll still let me work tomorrow, plenty of people saw what happened this morning.” He didn’t want to lose the ‘jobs’ he had that were supplying their meals, but he also didn’t want to leave the mage here where he wouldn’t be able to watch over him.

\---

“I’ll be fine. Believe it or not, I _can_ take care of myself. I’m just going to be in here, lazing about, you can go be productive for both of us.” The time alone would be nice, since the closest thing he’d gotten to personal space was when the elf had been standing guard outside the door of the last room they’d had.

\---

“I’m sure you’ll be fine. I just want to make _sure_ you’re fine.” He hesitated another moment, then sighed. “As long as you’ll stay here, I can at least go see where I’m needed. I’ll come back to make sure everything is alright once in awhile.”

\---

“Fenris, really, you needn’t mother me. Go do what you need to and then we’ll meet again for dinner, sound fair?” He didn’t need him checking in. He appreciated the thought, but nothing was going to happen on the ship. If he was going to feel wary, it would be about what might happen when they got off the ship, but it wasn’t as if anyone could do anything about what he was in the middle of the sea.

\---

“It’s not mothering.” He insisted, moving to the door. “I’ll check in when I can. Just stay here or find me if you come out.” He was clearly very uncomfortable with letting the mage out of his sight, but after one more conflicted glance at Anders, Fenris left the room to take care of what he needed to on the deck.


	9. Chapter 9

Rumors had spread quickly around the ship and by the time they reached Gascoigne’s ears, he was already forming a plan. He hadn’t expected any mages to be on the waters with them, but he was always prepared for such emergencies. He had a fellow templar with him, more than enough help to apprehend the magic-wielder, and they would take care of this problem before sundown.

He learned that the mage was sharing a room with a strange-looking elf and while he was sure a single unarmed elf would be of no consequence, he still made sure he saw the warrior out working before he signaled his comrade that it was time to make their move. He knew knew all too well how dangerous a mage could be when cornered so he took no chances, bursting into the room unannounced and immediately lashing out with a stunning smite the moment his sharp, dark gaze fell on Anders.

\---

In the passing hours, Anders had drawn out his manifesto and a quill with ink. For how little he’d brought with him, he had enough to keep himself going and that was how it’d always been. There was a small desk and chair in the room and he’d settled at it, writing in tiny, cramped handwriting that utilized as much of the parchment as possible. He’d been interrupted a couple of times, to his annoyance, but he supposed it was a small price to pay to give the warrior some peace of mind.

When the door burst open, he jumped, the quill falling out of his hand and before he could register who was stepping inside, he went into a painful daze. It only lasted for a few seconds, but it was enough time for the other templar to rush up and grab a handful of his hair, yank his head back, and empty a vial of magebane down his throat.

When he came to, he began to struggle, trying desperately to cast anything, but he recognized the bitter taste in his mouth and he knew that his mana had been drained and would not be coming back any time soon. It weakened him and made it harder to fight them and, more alarming, he wasn’t even able to bring Justice forth. The spirit was trying to intervene, but without any mana to help him come forward, he was stuck gnarling in the back of his mind.

The templar shoved him forward, pressing chest flat to the table and smearing what he’d just written, before drawing out some manacles so she could chain his wrists behind him.

\---

“It's over for you, mage. Come quietly.” Gascoigne said firmly, moving to help restrain him as she worked on chaining him. He was just about to comment on how smoothly this had gone when movement in the doorway had caught his eye.

Fenris had come by for another check in and his stomach dropped when he saw their door wide open. He rushed inside and when he saw the templars chaining Anders, he immediately recognized them for what they were. For a terrible moment, he found himself frozen there. He respected templars. He understood their work to protect everyone from the evils of magic. Normally he'd be happy to let them do their job, but today, they had the wrong mage. “Release him. I don't want to kill you, just drop him and go.” His compromise since he appreciated their duty was that he would at least warn them, but since he knew it wouldn't be that easy, his skin was already beginning to glow.

Gascoigne had scoffed at the elf’s threat, but when he saw the glow of lyrium, his fingers tightened around the hilt of his sword. He didn't know what he was seeing exactly, but it looked every bit as dangerous as magic.

\---

The way he’d been pressed to the table, his head was facing the door and he was the first one to see Fenris run in. He’d never been so happy to see him in his life, but when he saw the way he hesitated, the relief drained and was replaced with the horrifying realization that he might let this happen. It didn’t make sense, it didn’t fix anything that had happened, except perhaps taking another apostate and putting him back in the Circle where he ‘belonged’, except that wasn’t all that would happen to him when they figured out who he was. If he even survived long enough to get there.

“Let me go!” he demanded, sounding as panicked as he did pissed. He heard the elf repeat the sentiment and it wasn’t enough to completely dislodge the lump in his throat, but a small rush of relief returned to him.

The templar had pulled back from the mage, her eyes fixed on the company and she withdrew her sword. “You would do well not to threaten us, elf.” It was a warning she would’ve given anyone interrupting their duty, but she knew that even if he did back off, they wouldn’t be able to let him go. Not with what they were seeing.

\---

“Watch the caster.” Gascoigne warned, knowing they had plenty of time before the potion wore off, but never taking chances with mages. He wanted the elf alive - whatever he was, he was worth studying - so when he attacked he swung low, meaning to cleave deeply into the elf’s leg. To his surprise, the elf seemed to vanish in a blur of light, feeling only the slightest contact of his sword with the body before it was gone. He had just taken in a breath to snarl a curse at the abomination when he had the most bizarre sensation of being...invaded. Something foreign was in his chest and by the time he turned enough to see the elf behind him, his heart was being tugged viciously away from the nest of vessels that held it in place.

\---

The templar frowned, but did as she was told, grabbing a handful of the mage’s robe to keep him still. She saw the flash of light and her eyes widened when she watched a glowing hand reach into his chest. She didn’t know what was happening, but she was alarmed and she yanked the mage to his feet and held him in front of her, lifting her sword to his neck. “Release him or I will cut your mage’s throat!” She didn’t wish to do that at all, but she would to save her fellow templar.

\---

Fenris snarled at her, but the words made him hesitate. He squeezed the beating heart in his hand, crushing it before letting him drop to the floor. The templar was still gasping and writhing, but he knew the damage was done and the man would be dead in moments. “Done. Now give him to me or I'll finish the job.”

\---

She watched him fall to the ground and before she could wonder what he’d done to him, she shoved Anders aside, causing him to fall back over the desk and ran forward with her sword, aiming a deadly blow at his chest. She intended to make him pay for what he’d done, whether her companion survived it or not.

\---

The sudden ferocity caught him off guard and he barely had time to move. The strike that could have killed him easily ended up sinking into his side and it was with a gasp of pain and surprise that he lunged forward, tearing into her with glowing hands and ripping out every innard he touched wildly. He could feel Gascoigne clawing at his ankle from the floor, but he was already so weak he hardly posed a threat anymore.

\---

She screamed and her sword dropped from her hand as she was ripped apart from inside. She tried to clutch at him, to stop him, but the damage was done quickly and it was but seconds before she was sinking to the ground, too weak to hold herself up, and she was dead by the time she collapsed. Anders had managed to push himself up just as Fenris was finishing and he saw the templars splayed on the ground and without thinking, he rushed forward to give the one closest to him, the woman, a harsh kick. “You’ll never take me! Never!”

\---

He could see she was dead and by the time Fenris looked to the man on the ground, his last struggles had stilled as well. He was panting softly, his eyes fixed on the weapons on the ground. Whichever of the templars had the better sword, they’d be gifting it to him now to make up for this trouble. “They’re dead, Anders. If there are any more on this ship, I’ll take care of them too.”

\---

He was infuriated and the spirit was feeding into it. “You. You wanted to let them, I saw it!” He hadn’t, but he’d wanted to. He wasn’t surprised, he was sure that Fenris had long fantasized about him being locked up and never seen again, but it felt like a particularly strong betrayal when they’d reached some kind of truce hours before. The only reason he hadn’t, undoubtedly, was because they were bonded together. He shook his head and he started to shov e the templar around with his foot, searching for the key so he could get the damn cuffs off his wrists.

\---

Fenris shook his head, but saw would he was doing and knelt to search the woman for her keys. He was bleeding heavily, but too worked up from the fight to even really feel the wounds just yet. “I wouldn’t have let them take you. It had nothing to do with you, really. I just don’t like killing templars. People like them could have stopped what the masters were doing to us.”

\---

“I’m sure,” he snorted, not believing it for a moment. He knew he didn’t like killing templars from their time in Kirkwall, but he knew he wholeheartedly supported everything they did. He spotted the key on the ground and he shoved it towards the elf, since he’d be the only one unable to unlock them. “Get these off of me.” He turned away from him and offering his wrists.

\---

“Just be glad I didn’t wait until supper time to check in on you like you kept insisting.” He growled as he snatched up the key. He unlocked Anders’ bindings, then bent to pluck up the sword he favored from the floor. He set it beside his bed, then started looking himself over with a frown to take inventory of the damage.

\---

As soon as he was free, he was putting distance between them. They were going to have to take care of these corpses, but he was too worked up to care. He was drained and weak and he couldn’t get far enough from this room. He was, luckily, free of any blood from the innards that had spilled on the floor and as strode out of the room with a purpose, taking his staff with him just in case.

\---

He watched him go with wide eyes, then rose to his feet to follow. He was a gory mess himself, holding his side as he left the room on his heels. “Are you insane? I told you I’d take care of any more on this ship. You need to stay put until we know it’s safe for you to go out.”

\---

He twisted around sharply, only then really seeing the injuries he’d acquired. “If there were more on this ship they would have been in the room, forget about me! You need to go back and clean yourself up before you make a scene!” Angry as he was, he would have taken a moment to heal him if he had any access to his magic, but since he didn’t he was going to have to make do. “I have one elfroot potion left in my sack. Take it.”

\---

“I’m not going to let you go out there alone.” He insisted, shaking his head when the other turned to him. “Not after what just happened. I wouldn’t let them take you any more than you would have left me on that slave ship.” Even though he’d known that for a moment, Anders had wanted to.

\---

His jaw tightened briefly, then slowly eased. “You are so infuriating,” he snapped, before storming past him and going back into the room. The mess made him huff, but they wouldn’t be able to do anything about it until tonight. They would have to dump the bodies over the edge of the ship when no one was looking. Then they’d have to clean up the mess on the floors and furniture.

\---

The warrior looked relieved when Anders turned back and he followed him into the bedroom. He needed to rest, but first he took the bodies on the floor and at least dragged them over to one wall. It was hours til nightfall, but he was eager to get them out there. “What happened before I got here? Are you hurt?” He didn’t know exactly what might have happened, but he knew how templars worked and more than likely Anders was uninjured but certainly not feeling well.

\---

As worked up as he was, it was hard continue to direct it at the warrior when he didn’t snap back and showed only concern. He finally seemed to calm and he grabbed his sack, which he was steadily emptying to treat the elf today, and pulled out the potion. He tossed it across the room to him and then looked down at himself, as if checking for injuries. There were none, but the front of his robes were smeared with ink. Luckily, they were already black and the mark all but blended in.

“Aside from me pissing myself?” he asked, his voice more bitter than sarcastic. “They stunned me and stuffed magebane down my throat.” It wasn’t anything like the injuries Fenris had sustained rescuing him, but there was something terrifying about having his magic suppressed like that. It was his only strength and when it was taken away, he felt helpless.

\---

He caught the potion and took it, knowing that it would help considerably but that he may still have some stitching to do for the wound on his side. Moving to his bed, he finally sat down with a groan. His sheets would be ruined with blood, but they could go overboard with the corpses later. “How long does the magebane last?” He asked as he started peeling away the clothing that covered his torso to have a look at where the woman’s sword had gone in. It was of much greater concern than the superficial gash on his leg.

\---

“Depends on how much they give you.” He frowned down at the ground, recalling some memory that he didn’t wish to. His eyes flicked up in an attempt to banish it and he caught sight of the wound in his side as he revealed it. Sighing, he moved over to him and crouched in front of him. “Let me see it…”

\---

Normally he would have refused to even let him look, turning him away with a Tevene curse or two. But he had a little more trust in the mage now, especially since he likely didn’t have any magic at the moment. He still tensed in a way that gave away that there was real fear, not repulsion, in the thought of magic mending him, but for the first time he actually turned a little and lifted his clothing out of the way so Anders could really look at it. “It’s not that bad.” He insisted and though it was deep, it really wasn’t anything dire. “But had I moved a second later, we would have gotten that simplest option for separation taken care of.”

\---

He looked closely at the wound, only breaking his gaze briefly to look up when he spoke, before focusing on the task at hand without comment. He was use to the elf turning him away, but he didn’t think much on his compliance with as civil as things had been between them lately, newly soured feelings aside. He did what was natural to him and reached out to touch the skin outside the wound, his fingers ever so careful, the first time he’d ever done so when helping him. The elfroot had helped, but it was still an injury that needed to be tended.

“I’ve no needle or thread with me. I can heal you when I regain myself, it will just take some time.”

\---

He shook his head, but didn’t flinch away from the fingers, knowing he wouldn’t try to heal him without asking. “Can’t it just be bandaged if we don’t have the means to stitch it?” He knew better. It was deep enough that it would need at least some basic suturing. He pointed down to the more shallow wound in his leg. “That one too?”

\---

“If it were anyone else, I would say no, but you have always seemed to heal unusually well.” All the same, it wasn’t a good idea to leave a gaping wound open and if he was going to stubbornly refuse to be healed, perhaps they could find some supplies on the ship. He looked at his leg and, like before, used his fingers to gently examine the area around the wound. “This one can just be bandaged. A bit more of the salve I gave you earlier and it will be fine.”

\---

He looked relieved and even smirked at the comment about his healing. “I like to think that has nothing to do with my elven blood or what what done to my skin and everything to do with my body evolving to avoid needing any _treatment_ from my master.” He would clean and bandage the wounds, but right now he was exhausted so he shifted to lay down once Anders had gotten a look at his leg. “...Thank you.” He murmured under his breath, knowing that the mage was angry with him and had gone out of his way to look over his wounds anyway.

\---

It wasn’t the first time he’d heard Fenris making these types of dry comments referencing his time in slavery, but he’d never really done so to him. He’d never opened up to him and what he knew of the elf’s past had been from overheard conversations and gossip between their old companions. The last of his anger, what was directed at the elf anyway, finally faded.

“It would be simpler if you would allow me to heal you, but I will seek out the supplies to suture your side.”

He pushed himself up and grimaced at the sight of the templars lying along the wall. He made his way over to them and dug around on their corpses to produce a couple of coin purses, which he slipped into his robes, before going over to the desk where he’d been confronted. “Aww, my manifesto…” The ink had been spilled during the struggle and seeped all over the page. Sighing, he turned away and made his way over onto the bed, sinking down onto it and shutting his eyes. It had been an exceedingly long day.

\---

“If we find nothing, I’ll reconsider. I just want to try to stitch it if we can.” He didn’t want healing, but he also needed to be able to protect Anders. If anything like this happened again before the ship docked, he didn’t want to be nursing old injuries. Right now he just wanted to lie still until he had a little more energy to clean himself up, then perhaps go with the mage to look for a needle and thread before the sun went down so they could dump the bodies.

\---

He felt like crap and needed to rest, but as much as he doubted that there was another templar on the ship, he was on edge. His heart had settled down, but it continued beating faster than it had any right to with the calm that had followed the struggle. He shifted back, further onto the bed, but refused to lay down, rather sitting in the corner created by the walls where the bed was pressed into. He eyes were staring into the distance, his eyes fixed in the general direction of the door, and he wished, more than anything, to get some fresh air and leave the foul smelling room.

\---

It was some time before Fenris felt up to moving again, and when he did, he pushed himself up with a groan. He wasn’t about to head to the shared wash room in the hallway as he was, so he had to make do with the basin of water in their room to spot clean both his wounds and his armor before doing a messy job of wrapping them. He didn’t feel up to really tending to them and there was no point if they could easily find needle and thread somewhere on the ship. “Ready?” He asked Anders wearily once he was as put together as he was going to get for the moment.

\---

The effects of the magebane had faded, but it would take some time to regain himself. By morning, he would be okay. He hopped up as soon as he was prompted, again grabbing his staff, and heading out without a word. He was relieved to be out of the room and he waited for Fenris to catch up to him, before making his way to where the merchants were. He received a few stares and even more looks, creating tension in his back, but he ignored them and sought what they needed.

\---

Fenris met the sideways looks and murmurs with scowls and occasionally even threats, daring them to do something about it if they had a problem with a mage being on the ship. Though he looked weary and weak, the few people who had made comments about Anders seemed eager to back off. Of course he wasn’t surprised as they visited the merchants that of all things they peddled, no one seemed to have a needle and thread. He sighed, knowing he’d have to resign himself to being healed, but the wounds were not terrible so he could trust it would be quick.

\---

When they’d exhausted every option, he turned to face the elf, knowing that it was inevitable that he would have to intervene. “Are you ready to go back?” It was his way of asking if he finally had his permission to do what was needed. If not, they could keep looking.

\---

He sighed and nodded. He dreaded it, even though he’d already learned from the few experiences he had with Anders that his style of healing really wasn’t bad. It didn’t make him feel any better about it. “I’ll help you with your...mana...thing.” He didn’t know if he’d really recovered from the magebane, but chances were he could help to restore it if that was what it took. They both needed to be at their best, especially if they ran into trouble that night getting rid of the bodies.

\---

He wouldn’t refuse that. He felt vulnerable, even with the vicious warrior at his side, and he needed to be able to take care of himself. He needed the power that they’d taken away. He returned with him to the room, frowning when the sharp scent of blood in the air filled his nostrils. He supposed that it could have been messier and he was still here, so he had to be grateful for that much. “Go ahead and sit back down,” he told him, remaining standing near his bed.

\---

Fenris clearly looked nervous and he was so tense as he moved to sit down on the bed. The few times that Hawke had convinced him to do let Anders do this when he wasn’t at death’s door, he’d had the rogue to distract him. Sitting here and just waiting for it, he looked as if he was he was anticipating a beating rather than gentle curative magic. “...What do you want me to do?” He didn’t know if he needed to give him a boost of lyrium first or if he needed to at least undress his torso enough to let the mage at the wound as well as some of his markings.

\---

He resumed his crouch in front of him when he sat down. “Just hold still,” he replied, soothingly. He could see that he was anxious and he assumed it wasn’t the healing specifically that got to him, but magic being used on him at all. The only time he didn’t seem ready to jump out of his skin when he did this was when the warrior was too out of it to protest. He unwrapped the bandages and found the wound to be looking much like it had earlier. This time when he touched him, he placed his palm over the wound, so he could focus his energy and use less of it.

He had little to give, but the warrior received all of it and the wound skin sealed flawlessly, leaving not even a line behind. The light between the point of contact faded and the mage swayed where he was crouched, almost falling into into his lap, but he used the hand on him to keep himself steady.

\---

He saw the mage begin to tip and though he was still cringing from the little bit of magic he’d felt seep into him, he instinctively reached out to help steady him. He held him by the arms and let the lyrium light up in his skin, giving him contact from both his hands as well as where Anders was still touching his side. “Easy, don’t try to move yet.” He said warily, afraid the mage might pass out on him if he broke away too soon.

\---

The rush of energy didn’t feel like it had every time before and the effect wasn’t near as immediate, probably due to what was still in his system from the potion he’d been given. His eyes shut and in spite of himself, his legs gave and he sank down, his head lolling enough that he did end up resting against the elf’s legs. Being drained of his mana had weakened him, but using what little reserve that he’d gained really wore on him.

\---

His eyes widened when Anders fell into his lap and he shifted to tug him up from the floor, pulling him to up the bed beside him. He tried to intensify the lyrium as much as he could, hoping to bring him out of this. “Anders? Are you alright? Anders?”

\---

He wasn’t completely out of it and he was able to blindly take hold of one of the elf’s arms firmly, helping him keep himself up as he was pulled up to the bed. “I’m fine,” he murmured, the soft song of the lyrium was what was making his body give in. “Just help me lay down...but don’t let me go to sleep.”

\---

He nodded and helped the man ease down onto his pillows. He watched him attentively, giving him a little shake. “Open your eyes so I know you’re still awake.” He was clearly out of his element here, but he was anxious and didn’t want this mage to die on him because he’d reluctantly agreed to a heal.

\---

It took some effort, but he opened his eyes, the soft amber unfocused as he took in the sight of the elf. “It’s the magebane,” he tried to explain, since it really did seem to have an affect on how much he was getting out of this. It was helping him, however, and it was calming Justice, who had still been furious about what had happened. He couldn’t summon words past that and blinked at the elf lazily.

\---

He nodded, though he still didn’t know just how dangerous this might be for the mage. He watched him with a deep frown, his hands holding onto the man’s arms tightly. “Just keep your eyes open.” It was the only way he’d knew for certain that he was staying awake.

\---

He made a sound of complaint and his eyelids started to sink. ‘I just need to rest,” he repeated, his voice slow and relaxed. They fell shut, but the hand still clutching at Fenris’ arm gave it a slight squeeze to show him that, for the moment, he was still awake.

\---

“No, don’t do that.” For the first time, his voice betrayed his fear over this whole situation and the moment the squeeze was over, he gave him a shake. “Open your eyes, Anders. Look at me.”

\---

His eyes snapped back open and he looked at him in confusion, before seeing the fear in his expression. It took him a moment to say anything, but when he did, he let go of him and tried to pull his hands away. “Stop for a second, I can’t focus.” If it hadn’t been for his assistance, he probably would have ended up passing out, but he needed him to stop replenishing him so he could fight the peace that was making him so compliant to his exhaustion.

\---

Fenris appeared confused, but he nodded and let the light in his skin die out, releasing his hold on Anders’ arms. He watched him closely, unsure of what to do since that had been the only means he’d known to help him. “Did I make it worse?”

\---

He seemed to gain more focus, though he just looked exhausted at that point and he looked up at the elf, warmed that he seemed so concerned about him. “No, I’m okay. I’m not going to fall over dead, as much as you might enjoy that.” Clearly not, but his voice was teasing and he offered him a weak smile. “You’re helping, it’s just taking longer because of the magebane and it feels so nice that it’s making me hazy. I just don’t want to go to sleep because…” His voice trailed off and he fell quiet.

\---

“Why? Is it dangerous to fall asleep with magebane in your system?” His face had softened at the smile, but he still looked deeply worried. He shifted in his seat, not certain what to do with himself or the exhausted man lying in his bed.

\---

“No,” he replied, but was reluctant to go on. He broke their gazes and looked past him towards the ceiling, feeling a bit ridiculous admitting it out loud. “That’s how my nightmares start. It ended better than it usually does, with you here, but it’s always them finding me and chaining me, choking me on that damn potion.” His voice tightened a little and he shook his head, “I’m just...scared.” He said this word softly, as if trying to avoid the elf hearing it.

\---

Understanding dawned on him and he breathed a little sigh. After a moment of hesitation, he reached for Anders’ arm again, this time just giving it a light squeeze rather than pouring lyrium into it. “It’s not a foolish thing to be afraid of. I was afraid just a moment ago when you healed me. I’m afraid of it every time you do it, even though it’s never been like the magic he used.”

\---

His eyes shifted to find his deep green gaze when his arm was squeezed and he considered his words. It was his turn for understanding to dawn and he nodded, “He used blood magic to heal you, didn’t he?” He knew enough about it to know that while blood magic could mend wounds, he hardly considered it ‘healing’.

\---

“...I want to show you something.” Something he’d had on his mind since he’d seen the scars on Anders’ back. He sat up further and began to pull away his armor and clothing from the waist up, twisting when he was bare to show him a pale torso that was flawless front and back, save for the intricate tattooing that covered every bit of him. “Not a single mark and not because I was such a good pet either. Every time I was punished, he’d use his blood magic to mend it. He didn’t want me marked when he felt like showing me off or to be less appealing for my _evening_ duties. He’d heal every wound with his blood magic and make me thank him for doing it once it was over.” It was extremely personal, but perhaps it would at least help the mage understand why he was so terribly reluctant to be healed unless there were no other options.

\---

His eyes widened as he began to pull off his armor, revealing far more of his body than he ever anticipated seeing. He’d seen bits of it here and there when healing particularly gruesome wounds over the years, but he’d never seen the full extent of his slender torso and the markings that covered it. “Fenris…” His voice was soft, not filled with pity, but understanding. Before he could stop himself, a hand reached out and grazed his side, touching the smooth skin with the very tips of his fingers, imagining the cuts and burns, even bruises, that had been painfully wiped away.

\---

Hawke had taught him that touches could be gentle and so he didn’t flinch away from the fingers that wandered his side. “It was a lot different than what you do, but I still…” He wasn’t sure he’d ever get past his fear of healing magic, not really. But when he did need it, at this point he couldn’t imagine letting anyone but Anders do it. He met his gaze again after he trailed off. “I understand your fears of sleeping. Especially after something like this.”

\---

His fingers fell away and he looked up at him, wondering why he’d never considered that before. The way he felt about all magic, it had been easy to assume that Fenris was just wary about having anything cast on him and, as sure as that was true, he’d always thought his aversion to healing was particularly ridiculous. He mulled what had been revealed and with the elf opening up to him in such a deeply personal way, he was spurred to speak himself.

He didn’t know that Fenris had already seen the scars on his back, having been too worked up by the dream to realize he’d given him a good peek. “I basically have the opposite story,” he told him, his fingers absently playing with the lines of his robes as he spoke. “As you can probably guess, healers don’t have scars. Why would they?” He sighed, trying not to let the memories get to him as he revealed this story that he’d never told any other. “The Circle I was in was...good is too strong a word, but not as bad as some and not near as bad as the one in Kirkwall. Beatings were rare and rapes even more so. I was lucky - even in all my escape attempts I was never severely punished. Until the last time they caught me.”

“First Enchanter Irving thought I was harmless, but the templars… They were tired of me escaping. They wanted to make an example of me and so they threw me in solitary confinement for a year, but not before they stripped me bare and whipped me. They tossed me into the room, still bleeding, and my punishment was to sit alone with nothing but my thoughts and no way to heal myself. When I was brought meals, the water was laced with magebane and if I refused to drink, they forced me to. I had to suffer every moment of the lashes as they healed and scarred, but as much as it hurt, it was nothing to being alone in such a small room for so long. If it hadn’t been for the cat...”

He swallowed hard and his eyes flashed blue briefly as the spirit inside him angered at this retelling. He shut his eyes and the moment passed, so that when he opened them they were amber once more. There had been a time when he’d been able to joke about that room, but it had only ever been a defense mechanism, not wanting to accept what a nightmare the experience had truly been.

“I escaped for good after that.”

\---

He listened solemnly, hating that the moment he’d hesitated before killing the templars in this room now brought him a deep and heavy guilt. He looked to their corpses on the floor and shook his head. “...I didn’t want to think it was really that bad where you were. Our dreams might be more similar than I thought.” He struggled to look to him again, but managed after a long moment. “Though I don’t know of the solitude you experienced. I can’t even imagine. I was with him all day and all night. Even when I was finally given a night to sleep once I was too weary to stand, it was in his bed.”

\---

“I’m sorry, Fenris,” he whispered, his tone rich with empathy. “I don’t understand such cruelty. I never have. No one deserves to be locked away on the whims of someone else.” He was speaking for slaves and mages alike, something that had always grated on the elf before, but briefly his voice, firm and commanding, doubled as the light came back to his eyes. His brows came together as he reached for him, trying to rein himself back in. “Please, soothe him.”

\---

He knew just what to do and he reached out to take his hand. He seemed comfortable enough, even half dressed as he was now, and closed his eyes as he let his lyrium seep into Anders’ skin. His heart was pounding hard and there was a slight shaking in his hand, loathing to think about how things had been. Now he was unable to really know what it was to be alone, but at least the person he was bound to this time was not the sort of mage the last one was.

\---

Feeling the hand, his fingers closed around it and a couple ended up weaving with Fenris’. He took a handful of deep breaths and slowly relaxed, his body sinking into the bed as the lyrium calmed all of the emotions whirling around inside of him. “Thank you,” he murmured, his eyes falling shut as the held his hand firmly and savored the connection.

\---

“It’s nothing.” He murmured, letting the mage ease back into a comfortable rest. “But don’t go to sleep. Not after everything we just talked about.” He knew it would be hard to stay awake with the lyrium flowing, but he wouldn’t stop it just yet. Not until he was sure both the man and the spirit were as soothed as he could manage. He laced his fingers the rest of the way with his, letting the touch comfort as much as the energy.

\---

“I won’t,” he promised, still scared of the nightmares that would plague his sleep if he did. It was a promise he meant to keep it, but it wasn’t much later that his head fell to the side and his gripped loosened as he fell into much needed, unfettered sleep.

\---

He could tell that he’d slipped into sleep and he considered waking him, but he looked peaceful, so he decided perhaps he’d let him rest for now. He closed his eyes and let his head hang where he sat, getting a little cat nap him for himself as well. His fingers stayed laced in Anders’ and he kept a slow, gentle stream of lyrium seeping into his skin.


	10. Chapter 10

The next morning, Anders slept in beyond what was usual for him. The sun was well on it’s way into the sky and the ship was bustling with life. He gave a shift this way and that, before his eyes cracked open. Like the last time his sleep had been assisted, he looked and felt unusually refreshed and when his eyes found Fenris, he realized why. He didn’t startled as he had last time, but his brows furrowed before he recalled the night before.

Realizing what must have happened, he sighed, “You should have woken me.” He hadn’t wanted to sleep and though he hadn’t been plagued by nightmares, it had been at the expense of the elf getting rest.

\---

“You were too tired. You needed the rest.” He said, though his head was still hanging as if he was half asleep himself. “I was going to wake you if you started dreaming like that.” He’d left him only very briefly to dump the bodies in the night and had watched over him closely as he’d cleaned the blood from the room. The rest of the night he’d spent lending the mage his lyrium to ensure his sleep was restful.

\---

He pushed himself up, breaking the contact between them and watching him. “You’re the one that’s too tired.” He was looking at him closely, but as his gaze slipped past him, he noticed the bodies were gone and that the room was clean. His expression flickered with surprise - he’d cleaned up without him? He felt even worse for having slept through the night, even though he was doing much better for it. “Okay, Fenris, it’s time for you to go to sleep. It’s been over a week. I’m going to stay in here, right over there, and you don’t have to worry about where I am or what I’m getting up to, okay?”

\---

He shook his head, forcing himself to straighten up where he sat. “It’s not safe here. What if someone breaks in and you can’t wake me? It can wait until we’re somewhere secure.” He really wasn’t sure he could go too much further and they had weeks left on the ship, but he would try to hold out.

\---

“What if someone breaks in and you’re too tired to fight?” he countered, sliding off the bed. He felt a little...awkward about what had been discussed the night before and it was easier to not think about it when he was fussing over him. “If there’s trouble, I will make sure that you wake, even if it’s to a shamefully effeminate scream. You _need_ to sleep.”

\---

That was enough to make him chuckle and he reluctantly settled down onto the pillow that was already warm from where the other had slept. “You’ll wake me if anything happens? And you’ll stay right here in this room while I’m out?” He had no idea that if he could really make himself sleep, he’d sleep hard and it worried him that commotion in the room might not rouse him.

\---

“Yes. If that’s what it takes to make you sleep, I’ll stay here.” After yesterday, it probably still wasn’t a bad idea for him to stay out of sight. Tomorrow he could return to the herbalist and if she still wanted his help, he would act like nothing that happened and if all went well, everyone else would follow suit.

\---

“That’s what it takes. Just stay here.” He closed his eyes but it was clear that he was uneasy. It would be hard to get to sleep, even if he did let himself. He was so tired though and it was so good to just lay down and relax, trying to convince himself that it was okay to let go and slip into sleep.

\---

He was fully rested and he found himself wishing he had a book as he went over to his bed and sat on the edge. He eyed the spot where the templars had been, but there wasn’t a hint of them or the blood they spilled to be found, no matter where he looked. He’d done a thorough job and he wondered how long it had taken him. His eyes found the elf and he watched him for a while, thinking about what he’d told him about his time in Tevinter and the fear of healing that resulted. He’d never known anyone to be afraid of it, but if all someone knew was the touch of blood magic, he couldn’t be surprised. He’d learned not to push it, but he was all the more determined to find other ways to help him when he was injured - he would have to make a lot more salves for him.

After some time, he rose to his feet, but he wasn’t intending on breaking his word and leaving, he just made his way over to the desk where he’d been attacked. He pulled out the chair and stared at it for a time, before tentatively lowering down into it. He felt uneasy, but he reached for his manifesto and pulled in it to see what he could salvage from it and he used the last piece of parchment he had to begin rewriting what was lost.

\---

It took a long time for Fenris to look truly restful. He drifted in and out of a thin sleep for a long time, the way he’d been resting, but an hour or so later he truly fell asleep. It was obvious when the change happened because he went from being curled up neatly on the mattress to halfway tipped onto his back as his muscles relaxed, his lips slightly parted. He slept right through their usual meal times, so still and so quiet that if one wasn’t watching his chest closely, he could have passed for a dead man.

\---

Unfortunately, he ran out of ink before space due to the spill and though he could probably go out and buy some more and the warrior need never know the wiser, he stayed where he was. He read over what he’d written and then sighed, setting it aside. There was nothing else to do in here, so apart from occasionally making sure the elf was sleeping, he ended up sitting on his bed and picking at his robes or letting tiny bolts of lightning flow between his fingers, lots in his thoughts.

\---

When Fenris finally did wake, he woke with a start. Not because he’d been dreaming, really he’d been so far gone that it had been entirely dreamless, but because he was acutely aware that he’d been unconscious. His eyes opened and he immediately glanced around the room to take it in, quite relieved to see that Anders was in the room and no one else was. He relaxed then, sighing softly and stretching his limbs with a groan.

\---

He head snapped into his direction when the warrior woke abruptly and he offered him a smile. “Bet you still feel like shit. You should probably do that again tomorrow.” The stretch looked nice and he ended up mimicking it, stiff from sitting in the same spot for so long and glad that something was finally happening. He’d gotten use to doing a lot of nothing in the Circle, but he didn’t particularly like it and maybe that was why working himself to the bone in his clinic had been so satisfying.

\---

“I do. But now I feel like I can stay awake while I feel like shit.” He wasn’t in any particular hurry to get up and so he rolled to his back, laying sprawled there in a posture that seemed incredibly relaxed in comparison to how rigid and tense he’d been for so many days. “It’ll be awhile before I do that again, but I did need it. But now I need something to eat. Do you think saving a deckhand means we might still get a warm meal even though I didn’t help with the catch today?”

\---

He rolled his eyes, but he wouldn’t argue when he’d just woken up. He’d wait until it was time to sleep to try and convince him to get some more. “Possibly. There’s no reason why we can’t try.” He rose to his feet and, there he paused, as if he had something he wanted to say, but was unsure about. “I had a thought…”

\---

“Well, let’s hear it then.” When Anders rose, he reluctantly got to his feet as well. After another stretch and groan, he straightened his clothing. He had dressed in the night to get rid of the bodies so he was for the most part put together and ready to go.

\---

There was something almost shy in his demeanor, or perhaps it was closer to sheepishness. “I thought, maybe, if you wanted to…” He shrugged preemptively, as if it didn’t matter. “You could read my manifesto.” He wasn’t done with it, far from it, but he’d made a decent dent in it over the years. When he’d gone back to his clinic on his last night in Kirkwall, that was what he’d gone back for over all else. He went to his sack and pulled out a considerably thick roll that contained many pieces of parchment, carrying it over to him. “I just figured…” He trailed off. After last night, he just figured that maybe Fenris had seen, even briefly, that there were serious issues in the Circle and though he didn’t really care what he thought, if he could make someone like him reconsider his position even marginally, maybe others would be willing to listen too.

\---

Fenris froze and didn't reach for the parchment. He shook his head after a moment, his eyes locked on the floor. “...They don't teach slaves in Tevinter to read. I've never learned how.” There was a note of shame in his voice and he wouldn't look up at the mage. It had been perfectly normal where he'd come from, but he'd learned in the time since he'd escaped that anywhere else he was considered dimwitted for being illiterate.

\---

He’d held it out towards him, but the roll quickly fell to dangle at his side. “Oh, I see…” He hadn’t expected that, but he should have. “I suppose that’s as good a reason as any not to.” He took a step back from him, his foot firmly lodged in his mouth. He’d half-expected a poor reaction to his suggestion, but nothing like that. “I doubt you would’ve liked it, anyway.”

\---

“I might have.” He shrugged, a frown on his lips. He knew many people enjoyed reading. “That's why I said I won't be much help in the library in Orlais. I tried to at least teach myself the basic letters, but I just…” He sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. “It's just hard for me to learn at this point.”

\---

That did put his comment into perspective and he nodded, somewhat awkwardly. “Well, maybe if you’re interested, I can read it to you and...show you how.” He’d never taught anyone to read before, but he the first half of his life had been spent devouring books in the Circle, so if anyone could do it, it would probably be him.

\---

He finally raised his eyes to Anders then, looking uncertain. “...You’d show me how?” No one had ever offered to teach him. He was certain Hawke would have, but he'd kept it from his lover for fear of looking dumb.

\---

“Yeah, why not? We’ll have plenty of material to go through in the library, I’m sure we could have you reading on your own in no time.” Really, he didn’t know how long it would take, but reading wasn’t that hard. He didn’t think so, anyway. “Maybe we can start after dinner?” He lifted up the manifesto and gave it a wiggle, as if it was a tempting offer.

\---

He was so willing to take this on, he thought that perhaps Anders had taught someone before. The elf brightened a little, but he still looked unsure. “We can try. I'm really not good at it.” With no one to correct his mistakes, he hadn't gotten far at all with teaching himself.

\---

“Well, I wouldn’t expect you to be if you’ve never learned.” He tucked the roll back into his sack for safekeeping, not wanting it laying out in case anyone might spy it and take it. “Let’s go see if we can get something to eat.” He started for the door, leading the way out to where they’d usually gathered for supper.

\---

Fenris followed along without another word, still embarrassed but feeling better about it since the mage had been quite kind about the discovery. He was very hungry and so he was so focused on getting to their meal that he almost didn't recognize the man who approached them when they were out on the deck, simply moving protectively in front of Anders without much thought. But as the man grew closer, he gave him a better look and realized it was the deckhand they'd rescued the day before.

“Please, wait…” The man called to them as he caught up. “I wanted to thank you. I'd be a dead man if it weren't for the two of you…”

\---

Ander’s brows lifted when the warrior slid in front of him. It really was the most bizarre change between them, even considering the building friendliness and consideration they were showing each other. In battle, it’d always been a bit of a priority to keep him safe, being the healer, but he was more or less equal to the others. When it was just them, Fenris behaved as if his safety was paramount, inside and outside of battle. After yesterday, he appreciated it a little more. He sidestepped around him and gave the man a smile. “I’m glad to see that you’re feeling better,” he told him, looking at his arm. “Has it been bothering you at all?”

\---

The man smiled and flexed his fingers that he was very lucky to have. “It's as good as new. It's like it never even happened.” He moved his hand to his belt and pulled off a small velvet pouch. “Please take these. It isn't much, but it's all I've got that I can spare right now - the wife has another baby on the way.”

Fenris didn't hear the familiar clink of coins in the pouch, but he shook his head regardless. “Keep your money. It's a nice gesture, but we don't need anything.”

“It's not coin. Just a few jewels that belonged to my mother. I really don't have a use for them, but I can't bring myself to sell them since they were hers. I'd feel better giving them to a pair like you, even if you just trade them for something useful.” He offered the pouch again, but only got a frown from the elf so he tried the mage. “Please?”

\---

He took gifts only reluctantly from those he helped and only when he needed them. It wasn’t uncommon that he would be brought food or supplies that he was running low on by the people of Dark Town, but he never asked for anything and he refused to accept anything of importance.

“Keep them. With any luck, your wife will be having a daughter and you can pass them on to her.” That was a much more suitable fate for the jewels.

\---

“There must be something I can give you in return…” The man looked between them, reluctantly putting the pouch of jewels back onto his belt.

“There is, actually.” Fenris said after a moment of thought. “You don't happen to have a needle and thread do you?”

The man looked more than a little surprised, but nodded. “I have a couple for mending my clothes. ...Why?”

“If you have a needle and a little thread to spare, that would be the perfect gift for us.” For himself, really. “Just bring it by sometime. Sound fair?” Fenris asked first the man, then looked to Anders.

\---

He smiled at the suggestion and nodded his approval to the man, to show that he too thought it was the perfect gift. “Perhaps keep an ear out as well. If you hear about anyone wanting to lop my head off, you know, give us a warning. I do so look better with it attached.” He offered him a wink, as if such threats were a frequent occurrence and only a minor irritation.

\---

“I'll let you know.” The deckhand smiled, seeming pleased that he would be allowed to at least do something small for them in return. “Thanks again.” With that, he turned to leave them and Fenris looked to Anders. “Next time I meet with the wrong end of a sword, we'll see if you're any good at stitching. I don't imagine you do much of that.”

\---

“Believe it or not, I did. In Darktown, I did a lot of traditional care. I just didn’t have enough mana to go through the whole day. I worked from sunrise to sunset with few breaks, so I would use magic when I had to and otherwise, I took care of them as any physician might.” He still managed to drain himself each day, but it allowed him to keep going for longer than he otherwise would have.

\---

He considered that a moment, then nodded. “Good. You can keep your traditional skills from getting rusty with me as your regular patient. Not that I plan to be on the business end of a blade very often.” He continued toward the smell of food then, quite eager to fill his stomach after finally sleeping.

\---

“While we’re in Orlais, as little as possible would be best. We don't want to attract attention.” he agreed, falling in step next to him so they were walking side by side. He knew better than to think otherwise, but he was in a good mood and it almost felt like he was walking with a friend.

\-----

They returned to the room shortly after dinner, but not before Anders stopped to pick up more parchment and ink. They’d gotten a few gold coins from the templars and so they were doing better than they had so far in this trip, short as it’d been. It was more than enough to buy he needed and he was able to stock up on enough parchment to keep himself going for some time. He went straight to the table and began dragging it over to Fenris’ bed, so the warrior could sit at the edge of it, while he placed chair to the side so they could both bend over it and see the parchment. He sat down and began setting out the supplies, “Alright so tell me, what do you know? Do you know....your name?” That was a fairly basic thing that even the illiterate knew, but not always.

\---

Fenris sat down on the bed, watching Anders settle beside him. He looked a little anxious, curious to see how easy this would be to learn with some actual guidance. But the first couple questions already had him frowning and shifting uncomfortably. “No. I can recognize some words because I've seen them enough. Some town names. Inn. Tavern. Things like that, but I just know what the words look like. I don't know how to read them.”

\---

He was enthralled by his explanation since he’d never spoken to someone who couldn’t read about how they made do. “That makes sense.” He pulled the parchment in and dipped his quill in the newly purchased ink so that he could write Fenris’ name at the top of the it in neat letters, much larger than he normally wrote. “It’s important to know your name, so let’s start there. You just need to be able to recognize it for now, just in case it ever comes up in writing.” He ripped it free from the parchment and slid it over to him. “Keep it.”

\---

He took the piece of parchment, a frown of concentration on his lips as he studied it. It was definitely a word he'd never seen before and it didn't look very similar to any of the words he could recognize. “This says ‘Fenris’?”

\---

He couldn’t help but smile, finding the question somehow endearing. “Yes, that’s how you write your name.” He kind of liked that he was the one to show him this. “Are there any other…” He trailed off, his eyes falling to the table. He already knew what the answer would be and he began to solemnly write down another name. He tore it off and slid it over for him to keep. “This says ‘Hawke’.” His voice was quiet and he couldn’t bring himself to look at him, knowing it was something that he would want and sucking up his emotions enough to give it to him.

\---

“Hawke…” He took the parchment, looking over it curiously. He couldn't help the way the corners of his lips pulled up as he looked over the name, imagining that perhaps someday he could at least write a letter to him if he couldn't see him. Fenris looked up to him again after setting Hawke’s name besides his own. “Okay, now show me your name.”

\---

His eyes snapped up in surprise and as he brightened a little, not having expected him to care about recognizing his name. He pulled the parchment a little closer and jotted down his name, ripping it off, as he had the other two, and offering it to him with a slight smile.

\---

Fenris studied this one too, this set it next to his own name. He frowned, then pointed to each ‘s’. “Our names both end like this, but they don't sound the same.”

\---

“Oh, that’s because letters sound different depending on where they are placed in a word and the letters they are beside.” He leaned closer, more so than he usually came to him, so he could gesture down to the different bits of parchment. “See, this letter here,” he pointed to the ‘i’ in the warrior’s name, “makes this sound…” He demonstrated it and then explained how it rolled into the ‘s’. Then he did the same for his own name with the ‘r’ and the ‘s’, before isolating the ‘s’ sounds for him. “They’re really not that different if you listen closely. It just sounds different when you’re reading the word as whole.”

\---

Normally he valued his personal space, but he found himself leaning in as well, following Anders’ finger closely. He looked uncertain, but he was paying close attention and was eager to learn. “Do all of the letters make different sounds?” He certainly hoped not.

\---

“Yes, but it seems more complicated than it actually is.” He began to write out the alphabet, both upper and lower case, on the parchment, giving each letter plenty of space from each other so he could isolate them as he studied, “We’ll worry about sounds later, let’s learn the letters first.” He said this as if it were an undertaking for him as well and in a way it was. When he had them all written down, he pushed the parchment so it rested between them and began to walk him through each letter, telling him what it was and having him repeat after him. When they made it through a few times, he began to test him on them, from the beginning to the end, having him say them from memory and correcting him along the way, which basically meant on every letter at first.

\---

Some of the letters kept tripping him up and the elf was clearly a little frustrated that he couldn't keep them straight. It took him several tries to get through the entire alphabet without any mistakes and when he finally got it, he still looked tense and disheartened, but he breathed a sigh of relief that he got it.

\---

“Good!” he praised, rather impressed with how quickly he’d gotten a hold of it. He would have expected it to take all night for him to get them down, though granted he’d only managed in order. If he were to mix it up, he figured he’d have a considerably harder time remembering all of them. “The easier you can recognize the letters, the better. It will help when you are learning words.” He figured that was enough for tonight, as overloading him with information would make it harder any of it to stick. “I want you to study this tonight and tomorrow, we’ll test how well you remember them, sound good?”

\---

“I can do that.” He wouldn't stumble over them tomorrow if he practiced enough. Fenris took the parchment with the alphabet as well as the strips with their names from the table, looking down at his own names and trying to identify all of the letters in it. ‘Thank you, you've been...very patient.” He knew it had to be somewhat frustrating to listen to him get the same letters wrong over and over.

\---

“Don’t mention it,” he replied, brushing off his thanks as he had a habit of doing with those he helped, “It’s something to do in this god-forsaken room.” It was true that any time spent in the room before bed tended to be filled with a lot of nothing. “Almost makes you miss playing Wicked Grace, doesn’t it?” Though it was a game he often sat out on or lost, when he dared to join in, he had fond memories of being in The Hanged Man with their old companions. He usually had to be dragged away from his clinic to join them, but whenever they managed to bring him along, he had a good time.

\---

“Almost. I do like keeping my gold for a change though.” He didn't want to think about how much he'd lost over the years to the dwarf and the pirate. The thought of nights in The Hanged Man made him miss Hawke even more and he frowned down at the piece of parchment with the rogue’s name on it. “It'll probably be good for both of us to keep busy though. This room will feel smaller as the weeks go on.”

\---

“Definitely and by the time we get to Orlais, I expect you’ll be reading simple sentences,” he informed him, standing up and moving the desk and chair back to where they belonged. He made his way to his bed and sat down on it, near the corner he’d occupied most of the day. He use to like sleeping in not but his underclothes, but he could count on a hand how often he’d done so during his time in Kirkwall. It just hadn’t felt safe. He’d grown use to sleeping in his robes and though it wasn’t nearly as comfortable as being bare, the only reason he had on the last boat was because his robes needed to dry.

Whenever he crawled into bed it was always fully dressed, with the occasional exception of the removal of his feathered jacket. Tonight, warm and humid, he decided to take it off and he set it aside, though he didn’t lay down. He sat back, thinking about the future lessons that he could give the elf to help him learn how to read.

\---

Though he'd slept through the day, Fenris found himself lying back on his pillows as he studied his parchment. His hand wandered down to the shallow wound on his thigh, pressing at the bandage to make sure it was dry. He hadn't moved much that day, so it had scabbed over nicely and had barely bled into the bandage since he'd first covered it. “We'll get through that library so much faster if I can at least be of some help.”

\---

“With the added benefit of not being bored out of your skull,” he agreed, his eyes flitting over to watch him study. “Why don’t you try sleeping tonight?” he suggested after a while, since he knew that he could use more of it. If he gave himself a night’s rest, he might even feel better in the morning.

\---

“You need to sleep tonight and I need to keep watch.” He looked from his parchment to him, surprised he would want him to sleep again. “I'm rested. I'll be fine for another week or so.” Though the bed did feel very nice.

\---

“Mm, I don’t think I will be,” he explained casually, trying not to draw attention to what they’d talked about the previous night. Though he’d slept, it hadn’t been without assistance and he thought he’d be more likely to sleep through the night if he skipped one and tired himself out. “You need it more than I do, so go ahead. I’ll keep watch.”

\---

“I don't even know if I could. I've rarely slept two nights in a row. Even when I was…” In Hawke’s arms. He frowned deeply. “Even when I felt safe. Considering that I spent most of last night getting rid of corpse evidence, I don't feel safe here.”

\---

He’d been prepared to counter him, to insist that he try, but then the wind was knocked out of his sails, much like it had been when he’d offered him Hawke’s name on parchment. He fixed his eyes away from him, sinking deeply into the corner and trying to forget that he shared a such a relationship with a rogue. A relationship that he’d wanted, but would never have. He remembered warning Hawke away from him in the beginning and he had since spent a lot of time wondering if that was the reason why he’d been abandoned. “Suit yourself,” he replied, the delay just a little too long.

\---

He watched Anders a long moment, not sure what to make of the response. But he was unsure of what to say and so he went back to his studying. He was quiet for a long time before he began to murmur, not seeming to realize he was speaking out loud. “A-n-b-…” He snorted and shook his head. “A-n-d-...-e?-...-r-s-. Anders.”

\---

He couldn’t help but listen and in spite of his somber mood, he smiled faintly. Hearing him practicing his name was endearing. He kept to himself and let the time tick on, but eventually he was getting tired since it was about the time he would be going to sleep. He ended up getting up, stretching, and going back to the desk so he could continue writing. It would help the time go by and he wouldn’t have to worry about falling asleep.

\---

He kept at his practicing, mostly silent but occasionally reciting letters out loud. He was at it for hours before he finally rose from the bed, setting his parchment aside. He moved to the desk, having never bothered Anders there before and cleared his throat. “Can I try something?”

\---

He heard him moving behind him, but he figured he was just shifting about. He wasn’t really sure what Fenris did at night when he was sleeping, but he was fully aware that there wasn’t much to do. At least it allowed him time to study. The more he studied, the faster he would learn. He straightened from his hunch when he heard him clear his throat and he looked over at him curiously. “Uh, sure. What did you have in mind?” He’d thought they were done talking for the night.

\---

Fenris moved up beside him, close enough that their arms brushed lightly, so he could look over the parchment he'd been writing on. “I'll try not to take too long.” He had interrupted him, after all. His finger moved to point out the first letter ‘a’ he could find among the writing. “A...b…” He searched around for a ‘b’ then and though his finger stuttered over a ‘d’ for a moment, he found the correct one.

\---

He saw him looking at what he’d been writing and he was about to apologize for the small, tightly spaced letters, but as he watched him move his finger around the words, he was pleased that he seemed to be able to make them out. He ended up setting his quill aside and resting his jaw on his palm as he watched him work, happy with how quickly he was picking them up. He knew that the elf wasn’t stupid, far from it, but he was proving that he did have impressive intellect.

\---

He struggled a little with letters that looked a lot alike and he was slow, but he continued to slowly find each one somewhere on the parchment and point each one out to Anders. When he finally reached a letter that he couldn't find anywhere, he looked to the mage for help. He wasn't confident enough to decide whether the letter hadn't been used or he simply couldn't find it.

\---

He met his gaze kindly, understanding what he was silently asking. “That’s not a letter that is commonly used,” he explained, but knowing what he’d written, he was able to quickly pick out its only use on the current sheet of parchment. He pointed to it and looked back up to him with a smile. “It would be easier for you to find if I didn’t write so small to save space.”

\---

“Damn.” But he smirked, clearly not as frustrated as he'd been earlier as he followed Anders finger to the letter he couldn't find. “I have to learn to recognize them close together like that eventually. But it is a little difficult for the first night.”

\---

“You’re doing really well,” he told him, sincere in his words, “I’m impressed.” He’d never given him any kind of praise about his abilities and it was somewhat amusing that when he did, of all things, it ended up being about reading. Then again, it really didn’t need to be said that he was an excellent warrior.

\---

He looked to him from the parchment, surprised by such an earnest compliment. Only then did he seem to notice just how close the two of them were and he eased back, but only slightly. “I have a good teacher. You'll have me reading complicated manuscripts in no time.”

\---

He could really see all the detail in his eyes and with his gaze met, they struck him in a way that they hadn’t before. He knew, superficially, that the elf was alluring. The first time he ever saw him, the newly recruited elf trailing behind their leader as he came to speak with him, his eyes had given him a thorough once over. However, whatever appeal had been there was quickly extinguished when the elf opened his mouth and made it clear in no uncertain terms how he felt about all mages.

He hadn’t seen him in such a way since, but among all of his musings about why Hawke had not chosen him, he knew appearance had likely played a factor. On otherwise equal footing, he was well aware that Fenris won that battle, though he knew better than to think that had been the only reason he wound up broken hearted.

For the briefest moment, his eyes dropped to the elf’s lips, but he immediately realized himself and blinked. “You say that now, but wait until you _are_ reading complicated manuscripts and you may have something else to say about my teaching abilities,” he joked, turning back to the parchment in front of him and picking up his quill.

\---

He didn't miss the tiny glance to his lips and he was surprised by the warm flush the realization gave his skin. With a sickening turn of his stomach, he stared at Anders and realized that for a second he'd _wanted_ him to act on it. Surely it was just because he was lonely, because he missed Hawke so badly and was aching to be touched. He couldn't convince himself that was entirely it and he didn't want to deal with the pang of guilt he felt over wanting a kiss from someone else, as fleeting as the moment had been. “We'll have to see when we get that far, I suppose.” He was flustered and as he turned to go back to his bed, he tripped on the leg of the chair, needing a moment to right himself before he went to his corner of the room.

\---

His back was fixed firmly on the elf and just as he was about to respond, in the same joking manner, he felt the chair jerk slightly as he tripped and his head whipped over to see him catching himself in a less than graceful maneuver. He’d never seen him trip in all the years that he’d known him and he watched him retreat, “Are you okay?” He was somewhat oblivious to the cause of the slip, since the moment had passed so quickly that he didn’t think it would’ve been caught.

\---

“I'm fine. My leg is giving me a little grief, that's all.” It really wasn't, it barely even hurt. But the area was a little swollen, so perhaps it would be believable enough. He dropped back onto his bed, putting his little pieces of parchment together neatly.

\---

That was all the explanation he needed. “If you’d like me to look at it again, I can.” If he was getting an infection, they might have to try something else to take care of it. He was watching him, but avoiding really taking him in. Unintended as it had been, he didn’t want to notice his beauty in any form - he was past that.

\---

“It probably just needs a fresh bandage and a little more salve. It doesn't hurt much, just put too much weight on it when I turned.” He set the parchment aside and laid back on his pillows, trying to put the moment out of his mind.

\---

“Well, if you change your mind…” he trailed off and turned back to the desk, throwing himself back into his writing. He too wanted to put the moment out of his mind and it didn’t take long, surrounding himself with the comforting familiarity of all the injustices of the Circle. It hadn’t occurred to him, but for all his protesting about Hawke, Justice had been noticeably silent.

\---

He wouldn't be changing his mind. His leg was fine and his lack of contact with his lover had just caused him a fleeting lapse of judgement. He just hadn't been looked at like that since he'd last seen Hawke and that was the cause, or at least that's what he told himself. His eyes closed and he decided to rest until dawn, slipping in and out of dozes but not really sleeping as he'd let himself earlier.

 


	11. Chapter 11

Despite putting it out of his mind, Anders found himself...noticing Fenris. Here and there, noticing the way his hair was swept, noticing his the deep rumble of his voice, noticing the graceful way he moved. In those moments he almost missed the animosity between them since he hadn’t noticed _any_ of those things when he couldn’t stand him. An easy solution was to just stop paying attention to him. He still interacted with him as normal, sure, but he found ways to distract his eyes so he didn’t have to look at him while he did so. It was working pretty well and by the time a week had passed, he’d almost forgotten about the way his gaze had darted down to his lips.

After three consecutive nights in, Anders decided that they needed a break from their lessons. It wasn’t as if it would hurt the elf, he was catching on quickly and already successfully figuring out basic words. A break would do both of them good. He wanted to get out and stretch his feet and since the night air was pleasantly cool, he dragged the elf outside so they could walk around and enjoy the soft glow of the moon on the water. It wasn’t the first time they’d taken a walk around the ship, but it was usually earlier in the day so they could watch the bustle of activity between the merchants and the passengers. Though they talked here and there, they’d had yet to really have a meaningful conversation since the night the templars were killed, which, all things considered, was fine by him.

“If only every night on the ship was like this,” he commented, meaning the humid nights that left him feeling sticky in his bed. It felt so nice and there was even a pleasant chill that his jacket kept out. He had stopped at the edge of the boat as they strolled and looked out on the water. In the distance he could hear what sounded like a gathering of people and he’d seen the flickering light of what had to be a barrel fire that they were gathered around.

\---

Fenris followed along, pausing near Anders to look out over the water when he did. “Hopefully the weather in Orlais is like this.” Really, he’d settle for almost any weather to be off the ship, but it hadn’t been all that bad since their run in with the templars. He was rather enjoying their lessons together, frustrating as they often were, and he seemed to be picking things up quickly enough. He usually felt like he should be further ahead than he was, but the mage was very encouraging to him and would comment on how well he was doing so he kept from getting discouraged.

He had noticed that things were a little odd since the night Anders had glanced to his lips. The mage never seemed to look at him all that closely anymore and was keeping a distance, which was fine with him, though he did tend to move in close during their reading lessons to so Anders could point out letters and help him. Not much had changed though and after awhile, it was as if that awkward little moment had never happened. But while the mage was looking at him a little less, Fenris was looking at Anders a little more. He’d never really given him more than a glance, seeing as he was a mage and all, but the more time they spent together, the more he was studying him. It wasn’t out of lust, though objectively he knew that Anders was good looking, but the more he found himself comfortable and actually occasionally enjoying the man’s company, the more he found himself looking at him. If only to memorize his features and know him a little better.

His eyes were distant on the water when the sound of approaching footsteps caught his notice. His hand moved to the sword he wore, courtesy of their templar visitors, and he turned toward the sound, taking a step to put himself in front of Anders before he even caught sight of the threat. This ‘threat’ was a pudgy older man who immediately put his hands up with a laugh. “Easy, there. I just wanted to invite you two over for the fun. We’re having a couple drinks over a game or two of dice. The more the merrier.”

Fenris eased immediately, his brows lifted a little at the suggestion. “Drinks, you say?” He had been craving a drink for weeks now, but hadn’t wanted to blow any of their hard earned coin on one. He looked to Anders, curious what the mage would think of the invitation.

\---

He saw Fenris move suddenly out of the corner of his eye and he turned, but before he could see who was approaching, the warrior stepped in front of him. His hand shifted, as if going for his staff, but when it became clear that it was nothing, it lowered and he moved out from behind him.

It annoyed him whenever he did that, since it cut off his view whenever something seemed to be happening, but he knew his opinion of that would change when there was real danger in front of them. He glanced over at Fenris after the offer was made and gave a shrug, “Perhaps Justice will allow me a sip or two.” He knew he wouldn’t be able to drink more than that, the spirit against him doing anything that kept him less than sober.

When they arrived at the fire, he recognized several of the faces, but he was surprised that they’d been invited. He’d stopped getting looks days ago, so maybe he was old news and no one cared. Still, he kept a distance and watched, the cheerful mood contagious and helping to make him comfortable.

\---

When he was handed a mug of ale, Fenris took it all too eagerly and began to nurse it. He made a face - it tasted bitter and stale - but that didn't slow him down in draining it and taking more from the barrel they'd opened.

“Justice should lighten up a little. A beer or two never killed anyone. Though I'd probably kill for a good bottle of wine right now.” He offered his mug to Anders so he could take his sip.

\---

“No, but then I suppose I am a bit of a light weight and he does _love_ to rain on my parade.” A moment after saying this, a slight smirk tugged at his lips. He shook his head and took the mug from him, taking a sip of it. “Mm, almost not worth it if I’m not going to get drunk on it.” He handed it back over and stepped closer to a group of men who were playing dice so he could watch.

\---

“I can’t argue with you there.” He left a little distance between them, but also moved closer to observe the game. He wasn’t interested in playing, but watching them bicker and laugh together was brightening his mood. It almost felt like being in The Hanged Man again. He smirked a little, but there was something solemn in his eyes as he worked on his drink.

\---

After some time, he was approached by a man who offered him his own mug, which he turned down, but it seemed the man wasn’t deterred, because after handing it to someone else, he remained near him. He offered him a compliment, telling him that he’d seen him heal the deckhand that day and that it’d been one of the most incredible things he’d ever seen. The mage couldn’t help but look a little pleased, having used to adore such praise, but he’d humbled considerably over the years and he just smiled and explained that it was just an average day for him.

They continued to chat and ended up moving a little bit away from the dice game, where it was quieter. The man seemed interested in the fact that he was a mage and his abilities, but Anders steered the conversation away from the subject, not considering it safe, and the man ended up asking about his life before, which was not something most people were interested in.

\---

When they moved away, Fenris watched from the corner of his eye. He wasn’t going to follow, since they were well within his sight and close enough that he could run in and intervene should this man try anything. He continued to drink, relieved to have a little buzz after a rather stressful couple weeks without so much as a sip, and moved away from the game just a little so he could hear the chatter between Anders and the man a bit better.

\---

It was something he didn’t want to get into too deeply with a stranger, but he talked about how he had grown up in Ferelden and he described the village he came from, without naming names. He spoke lightly enough about it, even fondly at points, but there was a hint of bitterness beneath his words that went over the man’s head.

  
“Then one day I accidently lit a barn on fire and, well, here I am.”

Deciding it was time to shift the conversation away from him, he ended up asking about the man and they spoke for a time about where he’d come from and where he was going.

\---

He couldn’t pick up on much of the conversation, but caught enough to be curious. He continued to drink, turning down a couple offers to join in the dice and gambling. One of the female merchants on the ship joined in the fun, but not before she approached the elf and offered to show him back to her room for a more private game. Fenris snorted and shook his head, the same reaction he always gave when she made advances whenever he helped her set up her wares to peddle during the day. She reminded him a great deal of the pirate back in Kirkwall who flirted with him endlessly and while he was just as disinterested, more disinterested once he’d gotten with Hawke anyway, it still made him homesick. He sighed as she moved on from him to flirt with one of the men playing, the one with the biggest pile of coin of course, he drained the rest of his ale.

\---

Eventually, they ran out of things to say and as nice as it had been to have a conversation with someone, he excused himself and returned back to where things were livelier. He noticed that the warrior didn’t seem to have loosened up much, but he was still seemed to be packing away the mugs. “Planning on passing out when we get back?” he asked, humor in his voice.

\---

“Afraid not. It’ll take more than a few pints to make me sleep again.” He smirked to him, seeming to brighten a little with someone familiar to talk to again. “I couldn’t help but overhear part of your story. ...We were headed for Ferelden, then? Before we changed direction for Orlais?”

\---

“Ferelden? No. That is the last place I would go.” While not entirely true, he had no interest in seeing those lands again. There were too many bad memories and it wasn’t a safe place for him to being wandering around. “Why did you think we were headed there?” He’d forgotten what he’d told the elf before, thinking he’d never given him any indication of where they were going until they got on this ship.

\---

“You told me we were going to your homeland. When we first started traveling.” When they couldn’t stand to be anywhere near each other. “I heard you tell that man you were born in Ferelden. So I thought perhaps that was where you originally meant for us to go.”

\---

“Oh, right.” He had said that, hadn’t he? “No, while I suppose Ferelden is _technically_ my homeland, I was headed to Anderfels. That’s where my father came from and so it’s in my blood. Heck, it’s even in my name. Anders, Anderfels.” Orlais was a much more...productive location and begrudging as he was to admit it, Justice had done well to change his mind. “It was where I’d intended to go all along, but I realized that while we’re together...it was better to try our luck elsewhere.”

\---

He cocked his head a little at that, a frown on his lips. “Anderfels?” He studied him a long moment, as if really seeing him for the first time. The look was almost comically sincere, considering how unguarded the ale had left his eyes. “I always thought Anders was your first name. Why do you go by it if that is not your true name?”

\---

The look made him chuckle and he didn’t realize he was meeting his gaze without wavering for once. “Perhaps we should walk to where it is quieter.” Like with the man he’d been talking to, he’d rather stay away from prying ears and where he could keep his voice down. He started away from the fire, going the same way he’d gone before, but a little further. There, he leaned against the rail with the small of his back, his hands clutching at it behind him.

\---

Fenris followed along, a half-empty mug in hand, and leaned against the rail once they reached it as well. He was perfectly steady on his feet, only the slight haze in his eyes giving away that he was intoxicated at all. “This should be quiet enough, I would think. So why is it that you go by Anders if that is not your name?”

\---

“You don’t _know_ that it’s not my name,” he countered playfully, “Perhaps my family had little imagination in naming me.” It wasn’t, though, and the elf knew it wasn’t. “It’s a boring story, really. As you can imagine, being taken from my home and family upset me, as it would any young boy. When I got to the Circle, I couldn’t bring myself to speak to anyone. They dragged me away from everything I knew and loved and they hadn’t even bothered to learn my name. So when they asked I just...didn’t tell them. They knew of my heritage, though, so they began to refer to me by it and it stuck.” He shrugged as if to confirm that it was indeed a boring story.

\---

“There is no reason you couldn’t go by your true name now.” He said with a frown, then took a sip of his drink. “What is your name? The one your mother gave you, not the Circle.”

\---

He looked off into the distance, contemplating his question. “I’m not that boy anymore. The name...it means nothing to me.” He had no connection with it and even thinking it felt like he was referring to a stranger. He let go of the rail and folded his arms in front of him, lost in some hard to read emotion. “I’ve never told anyone this.” A single ship ride and he’d already let the elf in on his secrets twice. “No one has known my true name since I was taken away.” He finally turned his eyes back on the elf, studying him as if to see what his reaction to all this was.

\---

Fenris watched him thoughtfully, considering what he’d said for a long moment. “That makes sense. If you feel it is a name that no longer suits you, you should wear the name that you’ve had since your true hardships began.” He swirled the ale in his mug, not especially keen on drinking it anymore. “Just the same, I would know your true name if you would tell me. Even if you don’t identify with it, it is a part of your history and should not be forgotten.” The last of his words made his voice tighten a little, but otherwise he remained serene.

\---

He softened, not sure what he’d expected. Not that. It seemed he understood exactly where he was coming from and he felt the flicker of a connection. By the end, he knew that if he was going to tell anyone this private information, it would be him. He wanted to know. “Come with me,” he told him, nodding forward, and leading the way back to their room. It was an abrupt end to the night, but he knew what he wanted to do.

Inside, he went straight for the desk and wrote down the name he held onto only in memory. On parchment, it looked strange to him, but he tore it free and turned to offer it to him. “Once you can read it, you’ll know what my true name is.”

\---

He had abandoned his mug on the walk back, so his hands were free to take the newest strip of parchment. He looked up to meet Anders’ eyes briefly, then moved to take a seat on his bed. Names weren't as easy to sound out as common words typically, so he pulled out his now worn and creased alphabet parchment for aid.  

\---

He watched him move away and found himself sinking down in the chair at the desk, his hands folded over the edge of it and his cheek propped against them, his eyes fixed on him. He hadn’t watched him so intently in some time, but he had enjoyed seeing him figure these things out and he was wondering if he would be able to.

\---

His lips moved as he began to murmur the letter sounds as he often did in the beginning phases of sounding out a new word. His fingertip traced the letters of the name as he tried to work out the way the first syllable of the name might be pronounced.

\---

After watching for a while, his eyes shut and he listened. There was more to hear than there was to see and quietly as he worked through it, his voice floated over to him. He offered no input or help, as he usually did, just waiting quietly.

\---

He was struggling, but very slowly working through the word. After some time, he folded up the parchment, setting it aside with his other little collection of names. He stretched with a little groan, having been hunched over the parchment for too long.

\---

His eyes flicked open when he heard him groan and he smiled to himself when he saw that he was finished for now. He’d get it someday. He rose to his feet and made his way over to his bed, setting his staff within reach as he crawled onto it. “Goodnight, Fenris.” He rolled onto his side, his back facing the warrior, and let his body and mind relax.

\---

“Goodnight, Theodoric.” He'd worked through it several times and was confident that he had it. But he still watched the mage hopefully for confirmation as he always did when he tried a new word. It was especially important that he got this one right, so he was a bit tense as he watched for any reaction from Anders.

\---

His eyes snapped open and his body stiffened, his heart rising into his throat unexpectedly. Despite the conversation and the memories that went along with it, actually hearing the name that he’d left behind gave him a rush of emotion. He slowly turned over, finding the warrior watching him. He couldn’t bring himself to say anything immediately, but for all his insistence that it meant nothing to him, he was clearly affected. “...say it again,” he requested, staring at him with the same unidentifiable emotion from before.

\---

“Theodoric. Your true name, the one from your mother.” He said this in a low, gentle tone, seeing that the name did have some impact on him. “Thank you for sharing it with me.” They had shared a few very private things on this ship and he was honestly honored to be entrusted with something as personal as a birth name that had been hidden from others for so many years.

\---

He sucked in a slow breath, giving a faint nod to acknowledge his thanks, before rolling to his back. He stared up at the ceiling, the word - no, the name - ringing in his ears, as if coming from the warrior’s lips. The last person to call him by that name had been his mother and it had been just before the templars showed up as she tried to reassure him that everything would be okay. He never saw her again after that and all he had to remember her by was a pillow that she’d embroidered for him, something he’d kept close to him through the years.

\---

He let the silence linger for some time before he finally spoke up again. “...I would tell you my true name if I knew it, but I think, like you, that I would not use it even if I knew it. I’m not whoever I was when I was given that name. Still, I would like to know it.”

\---

It was a struggle to tear his eyes away from where they’d locked, but he tuned into what Fenris was telling him and turned his head back in his direction. When he found his voice, he spoke softly, “From where I stand, I want to say not knowing is better… but I know that it’s not.” He’d heard through the grapevine that he didn’t have memories from his life before slavery and though he had sometimes wished to forget his life before, he knew that he never would if given the choice. “Hearing you say it…” He didn’t know how to describe the way it made him feel, so he didn’t try. “I didn’t expect it. I wish that you could know what that feels like.”

\---

There was something profoundly sad in the smile he gave Anders. “I wish I could also. As much as I wish I knew anything of who I was before _him_. But ‘Fenris’ is all that I am.” He flexed one of his hands, having left his gloves off for the evening, and watched the tattoos stretch with his skin. “A part of you will always be Theodoric. It’s an honor to know that piece of your history.”

\---

The initial wave of emotion subsiding, he softened and ended up shifting back onto his side so he could face him, tucking his hand under his cheek as he watched him. It was clear as Fenris spoke of history that he understood how much it meant and Anders was figuring out that there wasn’t anyone that could understand it better.

“‘Fenris’ isn’t all that you are. You are so much more than you were in that life. You’ve grown, even I have seen it. Your history may escape you, but your future doesn’t. I will find a way to separate us and you will go on and…” It was really striking him how much had changed between them when they were forced to give each other a chance. “It will be an honor to have known you.”

\---

He shook his head, seeming to brighten a little. “Look at the two of us. All of this time at sea must be doing things to our minds.” He was teasing, but gently, not wanting to break the moment, only keep it from getting too heavy. “But I think perhaps it has bettered us both.”

\---

He chuckled, but it was not unlike the sad smile he’d been given. “I would have liked to have known you this way before, but better that it happens now than never.” Among the others, he’d grown closest to Hawke and Varric, but seeing things as he was now, he thought that perhaps Fenris would have been included in that little list.

\---

“We would never have known each other this way before. It took something rather extreme, but at least we know each other a little better now.” There would be plenty more time before they were separated and he found himself wondering just how comfortable he might become around the mage. He was studying him again, the way he found himself doing more and more lately, looking over Anders as if he’d never really seen the man before.

\---

That was a bleak truth. If it wasn’t for them being stuck together, this would have never happened. Never. Here he was, trying to open the eyes of the entire world and it had taken a life and death situation for one person to see that he wasn’t so bad. If anything, he’d proven what he’d thought all along. Extremes were necessary and the only way anything was going to change and as his mind fell on the Chantry, he wondered what would have happened if he’d managed to go through with his plan.

“Small steps,” he agreed softly, wondering was going through the warrior’s mind. He knew better than to think he had any influence on his opinions, but maybe he would not be so quick to condemn.

\---

“Is Justice getting in on these small steps? Or does he still hate me?” Not that it mattered, so long as the spirit wasn't constantly telling Anders to kill him. But he doubted his opinion was easily swayed. Then again, he wouldn't have thought it possible for his own opinion to be swayed.

\---

The question brought with it a flicker of amusement and that cheered him. “Well, the fact that you called him ‘Justice’ and not ‘demon’ helps, certainly.” He couldn’t quite gauge how the spirit was feeling about the elf and really, sometimes it was hard to tell where his emotions stopped and the spirit’s began. “I think his opinion of you has changed…” He went quiet, deciding to just question him and find out.

“He use to think that you were blind and selfish, but the way you’ve helped me and even him…” He trailed off, clearly listening to whatever was said and then he rolled his eyes. “Well, you think that of everyone, even me,” he mumbled under his breath. He turned his attention back on Fenris and spoke up. “You’ve surprised him.”

\---

“Ah, so he doesn't hate me because of this.” He let his hand glow for a moment, then smirked. “He has surprised me as well. I thought he may try to kill me to make make himself whole again, even if you wouldn't do it.”

\---

His eyes flicked down to the hand as it glowed and he could practically feel the lyrium running through it. He felt a yearning, wishing that he could steal his touch, even if only a moment. When the light disappeared, his eyes lingered, before tearing away to look up at him. If that was truly the only reason that Justice had ‘warmed’ up to him, he couldn’t say that he blamed him, though how much he wanted it just then was worrisome. He wondered if some of the desire was not his own.

“I don’t know. It may be because I wouldn’t. I know it seems like he’s just here in my head speaking to me, but he’s not. Well, sometimes he is, or sometimes it seems like he is, but most of the time our thoughts are one. It’s often as if I’m speaking to myself, thoughts that I don’t realize are there, and sometimes…” He was rambling and he shook his head. He certainly wasn’t making a case for being joined with a spirit, but he’d known for some time now that it had been a mistake. At times, it scared him, but he couldn’t help but notice that since leaving Kirkwall, he’s felt somehow better and more able to distinguish between them. “Anyway, I think you are safe from him.”

\---

The more he described it, the less amused Fenris looked. He didn’t like the way that sounded at all and if anything, he’d be even more protective of Anders. Partially because the idea of having something like that in his mind was terrifying, but also because he was growing to like the man and it was natural to want to protect him from harm. But he didn’t want to dampen the mood so he kept his response light. “If I’m not, I will be ready for him. But if he makes any serious attempts to kill me, I’ll have to cut him off from my concentrated little doses of the Fade that calm him so.”

\---

He chuckled. “That threat alone may be enough.” He didn’t want to be cut off from it, either, so he told the spirit in his head that they’d best keep their hands to themselves. His eyes dropped to his hand again, eyeing the tattoos that looked so bright in contrast to his sun kissed skin, but not nearly as much so as when they were glowing and casting him in blue.

\---

Fenris saw the way his eyes drifted back to his hand even after the light in the marks had died. It had been a week since he’d given him any of the soothing power, having no reason since the mage hadn’t had any more nightmares that he was aware of. He patted the mattress beside him, then let the lyrium light his skin once more. “Come here. It’s been awhile since you’ve had any.”

\---

His eyes flickered with interest and though he pushed himself up to his hip, he didn’t move to get up. “I haven’t used any mana,” he told him, almost questioning why he was offering this. He clearly wanted it, he had yet to take his eyes off his hand, but he was holding back just enough to confirm that he really wanted to give it to him for no reason.

\---

“It helps you sleep whether or not you’ve used mana. So I assume it’s good for you regardless.” Fenris gave him a little shrug, his hand still aglow. He really wasn’t sure how it worked. But he knew that Anders seemed to really like it no matter the circumstance and it had been several days since he’d last offered.

\---

That was true enough, but his instinctive response was what did Fenris care. What did he care what was good for him? With everything that had happened, though, he knew it wasn’t a fair question and without another word, he rose to his feet and came to sit beside him. He reached for his hand tentatively and then took it, wrapping his fingers around the warrior’s palm and breathing a little sigh.

\---

Fenris breathed a little sigh of his own, getting only a little rush when his lyrium first began to seep into Anders. He held his hand as well, watching the other as he took in the energy. “I wish I had any idea what that felt like. You always looks so relaxed.”

\---

When he wasn’t taking it out of need, it wasn’t as hard to keep his eyes open. They still wanted to drift shut, but he fought that impulse and met the warrior’s gaze with a little smile. “It feels... It’s hard to describe. My life is spent expending this power that I have and draining myself, but this. This is the opposite of that and it… It feels laying in bed of grass with the sun in my face and a breeze in the air, just quiet and peaceful. Like a dream.”

\---

“No wonder you always get that dreamy look on your face.” He chuckled under his breath, looking down at where their hands met briefly, then back up to Anders. “I can do this for you whenever you like. It really doesn’t take much energy for me when I’m not actively phasing into things.”

\---

“You may want to take that back, I fear you’ll never have use of your hand again.” He was joking, but his eyes flicked between Fenris’ as he studied him. He was awash in pleasant feelings and sensations, but he was still able to ground himself in reality. “Why are you being so kind to me?” His voice was soft.

\---

“...Because you’re not what I thought you were. You’ve given me plenty of reason to be kind to you.” He looked up to his eyes again, his own voice barely over a whisper. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

\---

There was a rush of thick emotion, his words meaning a lot to him. A lot. “Fenris…” He didn’t know what to say and as they had a week ago, his eyes fell to his lips. This time, they lingered there and his breathing deepened, fingers tightening around the hand he was holding.

\---

The elf watched his eyes and felt that same flush of heat when they drifted to his lips. He’d looked at him a lot lately and especially right now, with so much emotion in his face, he couldn’t help but notice just how handsome the man was. His lack of sleep and self-care hid it, but it was certainly there. His hand tightened the hold on Anders’ and even gave him an extra little rush lyrium, his heart pounding a little harder as the pleasant tension in this connection built.

\---

He felt the rush and his eyes flicked up to meet Fenris’. Suddenly, he could see little else and the way they were locked filled him with warmth as much as the connection of their hands. He felt himself leaning in tentatively, his body tipping to be even closer to him, but maintaining a line of space between them.

\---

He felt him start to lean in and he found himself leaning in as well. It was as if they were about to share some deep secret that had to be whispered. They had shared plenty of secrets between each other lately and it only felt natural now, though he knew once he was close enough to feel his breath graze his lips that this secret would be unspoken. Without another thought, he leaned in enough to close the distance, pressing his lips firmly to the mage’s, his heart leaping up into his throat the moment the kiss began.

\---

His breath caught and held it there for just a moment, savoring it, before he met it just as firmly, pressing himself closer to rid what distance remained between them. They were still sitting side by side, hands clutched together, but their bodies were in a close proximity that they’d never breached before. His free hand had fallen into his shoulder, helping to keep himself steady as he sampled his mouth hungrily.

\---

At the moment, he could think of nothing but the other man and the unfamiliar but pleasant taste of him. His other hand moved to Anders’ cheek, holding him closer and giving him a little more lyrium that way as he kissed him. Feeling him respond to it was so good and for the first time in weeks, the steady ache of missing his lover was gone. Hawke wasn’t on his mind at all, in fact, and while he would likely feel terribly guilty about that fact later, right now it was blissful.

\---

His cheek tipped into his hand and the position gave their lips a different way to meet which was just as incredible as every locking and relocking before it. It wasn’t a particularly deep kiss, but it was a thorough one and he couldn’t get enough of his lips or the hands that made it feel like he was dreaming. The hand at his shoulder slid up his neck and into his hair, gripping lightly at the white locks and feeling how soft they were.

\---

He sighed softly into the kiss when the fingers slid into his hair, the hold made it even easier to get lost in this. His lips parted so his tongue could dart out to taste him, inviting him to deepen the kiss. His heart was racing and he found himself twisting where he sat, wanting to press closer regardless of the way his tattoos would ache in protest when the pressure got heavy. It didn’t matter right now and he wanted more contact with him the longer he tasted him.

\---

He made a sound in the back of his throat and his tongue returned the gesture, in warning, before seeking refuge in his mouth. His taste was unlike any other and beneath it, there was a hint of the alcohol he’d been drinking before. He felt him twisting and he eagerly pressed closer, though the positioning made his weight fall into him and forced Fenris to either catch him or fall back onto the bed.

\---

Fenris caught him, a strong arm wrapping around the mage’s waist to hold him. He was so caught up in him, especially with his tongue boldly exploring his mouth, and more heat seeped into the kiss the longer it went on. His breathing picked up as he toyed with Anders’ tongue with his own, hungry and playful.

\---

He dug his fingers harder into his hair, tugging on it, using the grip to keep him pulled in as he learned every inch of his mouth. His favorite part was his tongue and as they met, he was beginning to grow flush, cheeks reddening as if he was intoxicated. In a way, he was. The arm around his waist did him in and he couldn’t help but break the deliriously sinful kiss to trail his lips down to his neck.

\---

He sucked in a sharp gasp when the lips started to wander his neck, his body giving little shivers whenever the kisses grazed one of his tattoos. It felt incredible, especially with his lyrium active, and he found his fingers gripping the mage’s robes. “Anders…” He breathed and only when he heard the name from his own lips did the warning bells begin to go off in his mind. The only name he’d ever murmured quite like that had been Hawke’s.

\---

“Fenris,” he whispered in response, his hand sliding down from his hair clutch at the slope of his neck as he found a spot, just over a tattoo, to start sucking. It was unlike anything that he’d ever experienced and he found himself sucking hard, as if he was drawing the lyrium into himself with each suck.

\---

Feeling him suck such an impossibly tender spot made him weak and for a moment, his thoughts of anything other than this went dead again. He groaned softly, his fingers sliding back into Anders’ hair and holding him in place. It was too much and it was only after he’d let it go on for a long moment that he started to withdraw. “Anders...we have to stop…” But he didn’t sound like he wanted to stop, not at all.

\---

He broke off and his eyes, filled with heat, found the warrior’s. His breaths were heavy, his heart was pounding, and the steady flow of lyrium was making it difficult for him to make a sound judgement. “Stop?” He said this as if he didn’t understand the word and his gazed dropped back to his lips, yearning to pick up the kiss where they left off. “Why?” He leaned in to do so, expecting to be met just as he had been before.

\---

To his dismay, he found himself leaning in to meet him again. It was just too good and he couldn’t resist stealing one more kiss, though this one was as brief as it was ravenous. He broke away then and shook his head, finally slipping his arms away from the mage. “I-I can’t. I...Maker, we have to stop this. This shouldn’t have happened.” He was panting softly, still worked up from the heated connection they’d shared. “Hawke…”

\---

As soon as they broke contact, the world seemed to sharpen. An awareness entered his eyes and he stared at him, the flush draining out of his face, along with the rest of the color. The sound of _his_ name brought him crashing back to reality and he struck with numb disbelief that they’d done this. They were in love with the same man and here he was, an outsider to the relationship that they had and that he wanted… and he was kissing _Fenris_?

“I...have to go.” He stood up and grabbed his staff, knowing that there was no way he could stand to be in cooped up in the same room with him. He didn’t care about what dangers’ lurked on the ship and he didn’t care how the elf felt about him going off on his own, he strode out of the room in a hurry, needing space and the cool air that the night provided.

\---

Fenris didn’t chase him right away, his thoughts too clouded to consider his duty. He stood from his bed and began to pace, feeling a little ill from the guilt as the reality of this set in on him. He remembered how angry he’d been with Hawke for returning Anders’ kiss and just now he’d been letting the mage suck on his neck. He rubbed the palm of his hand there, the spot still very tender, finding himself pacing a little faster.

\---

As long as Fenris stayed where he was, there wasn’t anywhere on the ship that he could go that was too far, so he put as much distance between them as he could. The barrel fire was out and all was dark and silent as he made his way to the prow of the ship. There wasn’t a soul around and that was exactly what he wanted as he sank down to the ground and leaned against the railing, just tall enough that he could look out to the black abyss below as the ship parted it.

Though he was never really alone, being by himself was a relief in of itself and it helped him to clear his head. He didn’t want to think about what just happened, so he focused on the world around him. There wasn’t much to see, dark as it was, but he had his other senses to fill in what his eyes were missing. The sound of the water, the smell of the wood, the gentle rocking beneath him. It was nice, but he might appreciate it more if he wasn’t actively trying to ignore something he didn’t want to confront.

After a while, he began to absently create flickers of flame in his hands that briefly lit up the world around him, before going out. If anyone were around, it would have drawn eyes, but for him it was something to kept him occupied.

\---

He needed some time to cool down, but eventually his guilt settled from something sharp to just a dull ache in the back of his mind. He knew he couldn’t leave Anders alone for too long, so with a sigh, he set out to find him. It took a little searching in the dark, but eventually he found the mage sitting out at the prow. The elf watched him solemnly, looking a little unsure of what to say. “Listen, things have been really...nice between us lately and I don’t want this to change that. It just can’t happen again.”

\---

A new flame hovered over his palms when the elf began to speak and it burned hotter than all of the ones before it, but it too was quickly snuffed out, plunging them both back into darkness. “Just go,” he told him, not wanting to be near him or to listen to what he had to say. He didn’t care if he thought he was helpless and couldn’t take care of himself, he wasn’t going to let him be the shadow he’d become so insistent on being.

\---

“You’re not staying out here all night doing magic tricks where anyone could see you.” Fenris said with a snort. “If you want to be alone, go back to our room and I’ll stay out and guard the door through the night.” He folded his arms over his chest, not about to take no for an answer.

\---

What did it matter? Everyone on this ship knew he was a mage already and if someone had somehow managed to miss out on all the excitement and gossip of that day, there wasn’t much they could do about it. “I mean it. Go.” His hands clenched into fists, but he was otherwise keeping himself under tight wraps.

\---

“No.” He moved closer, deciding he’d drag him back to the room if he had to. “Tonight shouldn’t have happened, but we can’t change it now. Just go to our room and I’ll stay out.”

\---

“I said go!” This time he yelled it and there was a powerful burst of flames from his palms to accent the demand. Threatening as it looked, all that it accomplished was it lit the night around them and revealed the angry glare that the mage was giving him. The flames died and all went dark, but the tension remained behind.

\---

Fenris took a defensive step back when the flames left his hands, scowling fiercely at him. As soon as they were gone, he moved in and took him by the arm. “Don’t be stupid. Let’s go. Now.” He wasn’t having any more of this, he had enough to sort through in his mind right now without the mage being stubborn.

\---

He ripped himself away from him and scrambled to his feet, furious. “You know what? You’re _exactly_ like him. ‘This is a mistake, we can’t keep doing this, this shouldn’t have happened’. If you’re so upset about kissing me, maybe you should have thought about that before you did!” It wasn’t even Fenris that he was really lashing out at. The words, more than anything, were aimed at Hawke because Hawke was the one that had hurt him, not the warrior. Right now, he was just upset with what had happened and that he wouldn’t leave him be.

\---

The words made him freeze. His scowl vanished and for a moment, he looked at Anders as if he’d spoken to him in some other language. “...Exactly like who? Who’s been saying that to you?” He knew the answer, he just didn’t want to. He knew that Anders and Hawke had flirted, but he didn’t know the extent of it or how long it had gone on. If Hawke had been saying things like that to the mage, the answer was clear enough.

\---

“Who do you think? You really thought you were the only one that he was getting hot and heavy with?” he asked, shaking his head. “Don’t kid yourself, but hey, you should probably thank me. I’m pretty sure it was kissing me that made him realize how much he wanted you, so you’re welcome.” He sounded so very bitter about this, all of these emotions that he’d held pent up inside pouring out of him. “I guess I am just that shit of a kiss.”

\---

For a long moment, the elf simply looked stunned. Then his lips pulled back into a snarl. “That bastard.” He didn’t mean that, not really. But learning that his lover who he’d trusted beyond anyone in his life would be sharing ‘mistake’ kisses with this man, and more than once, was a deep betrayal. He tore away from Anders, rushing to the nearest wall and putting his fist directly through it. Fortunately it was the wall of a supply room and not anyone’s private quarters because he continued to punch holes into it, thrashing wildly with both fists. “That lying bastard!”

\---

He watched him go and then flinched when he began to punch the wall. He couldn’t see the damage, but he could hear the sound of his fists meeting wood he knew it wasn’t pretty. In spite of himself, he felt a unwelcome pang of guilt. He was upset with what had happened in the room, but even that was because of Hawke and, more specifically, their respective relationships with him. If things  were different and Fenris was with someone else, he would have felt differently about the kiss and the way it ended. Then, perhaps, he would be upset at Fenris, but as it stood, the only thing that the warrior had done to him was refuse to leave him alone.

He slowly made his way over to him, though he kept a distance between them. “Fenris, please. Just listen.”

\---

He paused when he heard his name, but only momentarily. He pummeled the broken wall several more times before he finally turned to face him, his bleeding hands still clenched into fists. “Listen to what? More little ‘mistakes’ the first person I’ve ever trusted made behind my back?” He was seething, but he was also hurting and it was obvious in the way he couldn’t look at Anders.

\---

“Look, I don’t know what he told you. I don’t know what he lied about and what he didn’t, but you should at least know that he stopped everything with me just before he got serious with you. He called them mistakes because the closer we got, the more he realized it wasn’t me he wanted.” Maker, admitting this was wounding him. The inadequacy rang in his voice, but as much as he wanted to stop and bury all of this deep down where it had been festering, he was standing there trying to mend the fucking relationship that caused him so much pain. It sure as hell wasn’t for Hawke’s sake, so it seemed that he cared enough about the warrior to drudge up all this misery to try and reassure him that he would still get the happy ending he wanted.

“I let him string me along and I knew for months I didn’t have a chance. When he did finally chose you, he abandoned me so...maybe it’s not... not what you’re thinking.”

\---

He listened and while the rage drained from him, he simply felt ill. When it was done, he turned back for the wall, giving it one half-hearted punch that barely pierced the wood. He heaved a heavy sigh, then looked to Anders. “...We must both be shitty kissers if he was kissing both of us for months.” It was a weak attempt at a jest, but it seemed better than falling apart now that he didn’t have his anger to fuel him. “...Can we go back to our room now?”

\---

Months? Was that how long they’d been kissing? He’d been kissing him for longer than that, but maybe all he had been was a benchwarmer for the man that Hawke really wanted. It certainly felt that way. “Please, can you, just this once, let me go?” He could not, _could not_ stand to be in the same room with him, not after having spilled all of that to him. “Please?”

\---

He looked like he wanted to protest, but he didn’t. He didn’t have the energy for it. Rather than answer him, he just turned to go. He didn’t want to go back to their room, but he didn’t know where he wanted to go instead. So he simply began walking, wanting to find some quiet place he could be alone and try not to think about his lover hot and heavy with anyone else.

\---

He should have been relieved, but he couldn’t summon the emotion. He turned and went back his spot, but when he sank down this time, he buried his hands into his face and held them there. He had known better than to open himself up to the charming rogue, but he’d fallen hard and there had been a time when he thought they had a chance. It eventually became clear to him that they didn’t and that was when he should have cut it off, but Hawke had continued to flirt, continued to come see him, and he’d let it go on. When he did begin to draw away, to hesitate, he tried to pull him back in. For a time, it worked, but one day he pulled too hard and everything broke.

He’d come to accept that things were the way they were, trying to put all of it behind him, but something had happened with the heated kiss tonight. He’d found himself thrown back into the middle of their relationship and all of the anger that he’d never given himself a chance to feel came pouring out. Anger at Hawke and, unfortunately, without the man here to be on the receiving end of it, he ended up lashing out at Fenris. It truly wasn’t Fenris that he was upset with, though he hadn’t even begun to contemplate what had possessed the warrior to kiss him.

As much as it killed him to do, he’d thrown out all of his dirty laundry, all of the truths that he hadn’t wanted to face, because he’d managed to hurt someone he was beginning to consider a friend. He could have said nothing, could have let Fenris believe that Hawke had cheated and let their relationship crumble, but he knew from experience what that would do to the elf. He wasn’t sure that it had been worth it and he doubted things would be the same between them after all of this, but if nothing else, he had done the right thing.

\---

Fenris had a vague idea of how far he could get from the other on the ship and while he didn’t want to push the limit, he did want to be isolated. He could go back to chasing away dangers tomorrow. It was a distance that would likely start to bother Justice, but he found a place near the back of the ship where some of the netting gear was kept and he found a little nook between the gears and pulleys to sit down where he would be mostly hidden from sight. He started to pick splinters from his knuckles, frowning deeply and trying to keep his mind clear so he wouldn’t keep wondering what else Hawke had been doing in the early stages of their relationship.


	12. Chapter 12

The next few days went by very quietly. Fenris never returned to their room that night, going straight to work from his hiding spot the next morning. When he came across the mage and they finally spoke again, he’d been assured that it would never happen again and Fenris had simply brushed it off. He wasn’t worried about it happening again, not after the way the night had ended.

While they didn’t make an effort to stay separated after that, they scarcely interacted. It felt a lot like their earlier days together. Both of them kept their eyes down, spoke only when necessary, and the only time Fenris drew especially close was if he momentarily perceived anything as a threat to the mage.

It was another quiet evening and Fenris was sitting on his bed, his parchments laying out in front of him. He worked on them for hours at night and so he was no longer mixing up his letters. It made sounding words out easier, but he still struggled with putting them all together into words. He’d need more practice with full sentences for that.

After he’d been over his alphabet several times, his eyes shifted to Anders. The other man was on his own bed, poring over his lengthy manuscript as he often was in the evenings if he wasn’t at his desk adding to it. He watched him for a long moment before he finally spoke up quietly. “...Can we read a little tonight?” He hadn’t practiced with him since the night they kissed and he was willing to break the silence between them to at least ask.

\---

He bit his lip in concentration, considering one sentence in particular and wondering if he ought to cut it out completely or try to reorder it. It sort of drew attention away from his point, didn’t it? Then again, it was a good point in its own right so it wouldn’t do to get rid of it. Maybe he just needed to expand on it elsewhere, make it an argument on its own. He was rather caught up in his thoughts, but it didn’t take much to break him out of them and he blinked, the parchment lowering as he looked at the warrior.

“Read?” He’d had been right in his prediction that things would change between them and whatever ‘friendship’ had been forming between them was gone, but they remained civil. He wasn’t sure that they would return to their lessons, but it didn’t surprise him that Fenris wanted to continue. In the reverse situation, learning to read would be above petty differences for him too.

“Of course.” He set his manifesto aside, pushing himself up from the slouch he’d been sitting in and rising to his feet. He was all business as he began to drag the table and chair over to where they normally practiced and with everything in place, he sat down. The desk was a mess of parchment from his diligent work and it was a simple task to quickly organize it. In doing so, he isolated a sheet that he set in front of Fenris’ spot.

Before each lesson, Anders took the time out of his day to prepare these sheets and fill them things that he wanted the elf to learn and this sheet was one that he would not have seen before. It seemed that he’d anticipated this happening and in the silent days since their kiss, he’d prepared a list of words and simple sentences, just in case.

\---

Fenris had been prepared to wait on Anders to write up a new list of words and sentences, but to his surprise, he had them ready. He looked to the mage, his eyes less guarded than they had been in days, and nodded to thank him. He lowered his gaze to the page then, starting to sound out the words before him. He was slow, but did well with the first few sentences. It was when he reached the word ‘though’ that he really began to struggle. He understood that there were some words like this where some letters weren’t pronounced as they usually were, but they always tripped him up when he reached one. He worked at it on his own for several tries, always wanting to do it without help, before he finally got frustrated and looked up to meet Anders’ eyes, silently asking to be corrected.

\---

It almost felt like nothing had happened between them, but there was a certain...distance between them. As the elf hunched over the parchment to read it, he remained straight in his chair, avoiding the causal proximity that normally came with their lessons. He was normally a little more interactive, watching him work through the words and following his process, but he was just listening this time. It wasn’t until he got stuck that he leaned in a little closer, so he could see which one it was that had tripped him.

“Though,” he supplied, reaching in to gesture to the word. He walked him through the letters and the sounds, explaining why it sounded the way it did, before leaning closer still so he could pull the parchment in and jot down a couple of similar words beside it. He always did his best to offer him a thorough explanation, rather than just give him the word and have him move on. He would learn either way, but he thought it was better for him to know why things were the way they were, rather for him to just accept it.

\---

Fenris didn’t seem to mind the proximity when he moved in to help. In fact, it felt better than the rest of the lesson had. More normal to have his teacher watching closely and attentively following his work. He traced his finger over the similar words Anders had written, keeping his fingertip just above the parchment so he wouldn’t smear the ink. “...I know I’ve already asked a lot from you. But do you think you could help me write once I can read?”

\---

For him, reading and writing was synonymous. He had learned to do them together and it was hard to imagine being able to read, but not being able to write. As he thought about it, though, he supposed that knowing the words in his mind and transferring them onto parchment was different than just seeing and identifying them.

There wasn’t any reason why he couldn’t and it didn’t take him long to answer. “I can do that.”

\---

The corners of his lips turned up then, but there was something in his eyes that was hard to read as he really looked at him for the first time in days. It was startlingly easy for him to get caught up in the mage, having gotten a taste of him a few nights ago, and it gave him a deep pang of resentment. Perhaps that was why his lover had failed to push this man away. Why he’d kept kissing him after they had started getting intimate and, as far as he had thought before, exclusive. He was angry that Anders had kept sharing kisses with him for so long, but really, it was the charming rogue that he blamed the most. The mage was doing him a kindness now, one he truly appreciated, so he pushed down all of his anger to give an appropriate response. “Thank you, Theodoric.”

\---

The name hit him unexpectedly and his eyes met Fenris’ in response. There was something guarded in them, but he could recognize an olive branch when he saw one. He’d said from the beginning that he didn’t want what happened that night to change things between them, but that was before all the unfortunate truths had been laid out between them. It seemed impossible to him  that he would still want the comfortable relationship that they’d started to fall into, but things between them had changed and they’d proven that they could get along, so there was no reason why they shouldn’t move past something that was long over.

“Perhaps, once we finish this sheet, we can go for a walk?” There. His attempt to return the peace offering.

\---

“I’d like that.” They were still leaning close and he tried to wish away the tension he felt from the proximity. This was Hawke’s fault. If Hawke hadn’t kept playing games with this mage, Anders wouldn’t have kissed him before he fled and none of this would have happened. There was a storm brewing behind his eyes and he couldn’t help the way they drifted lower to the man’s lips ever so briefly.

\---

He could see that there was something he was thinking, but when his eyes fell, he frowned and leaned back uncertainly. “Fenris?” he questioned, not understanding. He hadn’t put much thought into the kiss, not why he’d done it nor why the other had. There had been a bigger picture that he’d been consumed by and the fact that they’d shared a kiss at all had slipped by, almost unnoticed, but he was suddenly reminded that they had fallen rather eagerly into each other and he felt unease.

\---

He shouldn’t do it. In fact, they both knew they shouldn’t do it, but who were they being so thoughtful of? The man who had both of their hearts wrapped around his finger and the man who had hurt them both because of it. He felt like he’d regret it almost the moment it happened, but he couldn’t bring himself to care right now. With a scowl on his lips, he reached for the mage and tugged him back in close, pulling him in and crushing their lips together. He wondered just how many times Hawke had tasted him just like this and it made his fingers tighten their hold on the man’s robe, almost shaking in his hurt and resentment.

\---

His eyes widened and he made an undignified sound as he was yanked in and confronted with lips. His brain seemed to short circuit and it took a considerable delay for him to try to pull back. “Fenris, what are you…?” He breathed between them, feeling the strong emotions that were built up in the warrior.

\---

Fenris didn’t try to force him back into the kiss, but he also didn’t release his death grip on his robes. “Do you want me?” He breathed, his voice a low growl. He was shaking now, but some of the resentment in his eyes had given way to hunger. “We wanted each other the other night. Do you want me now?”

\---

What was happening? “I…” His lips were shifting, but no sound came out. He didn’t even know where to begin and he was waffling, but he wasn’t saying ‘no’. Rarely lost for words, they seemed to completely escaped him, knee deep in disbelief that after all his insistence that this had been a mistake and all his anger that he’d gotten between him and his lover, he wanted him. Fenris wanted him. Finally, it was hitting him what had occurred that night and it was just about the most unbelievable thing that had ever happened. This now even more so.

\---

“You’re thinking too hard about this.” He growled and leaned in to kiss him again. He wouldn’t keep pushing if he pushed him away again, but he’d certainly noticed that he hadn’t gotten a negative answer to his question, though he hadn’t really gotten an answer at all. He kissed him hard, none of the gentleness from a couple nights ago there as he took what he wanted.

\---

His breath hitched and he started to speak, as if forming a protest, but it gave way as his lips began to move, meeting the kiss. He knew better, but the warrior was practically throwing himself on him and mistake or not, he was being distinctly reminded of the way his mouth tasted. He’d never been good at resisting this, yearning for companionship even as he attempted to nobly push it away, which was probably why he’d given into Hawke time and time again, despite his better judgement.

\---

It wasn’t until he started to kiss him back that his hands eased up on the robes they clutched. They sought his skin instead, finding the back of his neck and his cheek and while his grip was hard, he made up for it with the gentle flow of lyrium he started to pour into him. He started to deepen the kiss, his tongue searching for Anders’ as he yearned to explore him a second time.

\---

The lyrium made it far easier for him to let go of his stubborn reservations and his lips parted to meet his tongue, his own hands shifting to find refuge on the other. There was the corner of the table between them, so what little he could reach, he held. The arm holding his cheek and his shoulder, though his fingers strayed near his neck where he’d left a mark that had lingered following their brief tryst.

\---

The mark was still a little tender because of the tattoo beneath it and he gave a little shiver as he had that first night when it was touched. He was starting to relax, his kiss softening as his anger faded into lust but it was no less hungry than it had been at the start. He sighed softly into the kiss as his tongue roamed Anders’ mouth, finding himself wondering if the rest of him tasted as good as his lips.

\---

He felt the change and he had the brief impulse to pull back so he could try to study him, but the tongue in his mouth kept him from doing so. He started to lean closer, but the edge of the table cut into his middle and he wasn’t able to get far, so he slipped his foot against the leg of the table and pushed it away, getting rid of the barrier between them.

\---

He seemed pleased to have the table out of the way and he pressed himself to Anders just as he had the last time they kissed. With so much contact between their bodies, he let all of his skin glow with a gentle stream of lyrium. As much as he wanted the man to enjoy his kiss, there was no reason to deny him this extra bit of pleasure to go along with it.

\---

When his entire body came alive it was like there was a crackling in the air and the mage couldn’t help but be drawn to it. He began to shift out of his seat, wanting to press flush, so he clutched at the bottom of his robes and pulled up so that he could maneuver into his lap without them restricting him. All the while, he was kissing him with something akin to need now.

\---

He welcomed him into his lap, pulling him in to help him settle there. He kissed him until he was entirely breathless and only then did he reluctantly break away. He leaned back to meet his eyes briefly, but there was no guilt or hesitance in his gaze. In fact, he used his hold on the back of the mage’s neck to guide his lips to his neck, right where he’d marked him the last time. He wanted to show him that he wasn’t going to push him away this time and he was welcome to renew the mark.

\---

He met his gaze, a hint of question in his own, but when he was pulled in, he wasted no time latching onto his neck and sucking on his skin. He could taste the salt of the effort he’d put in that day and he licked it clean, his tongue tracing the glowing lines between each needy suckling.

\---

He groaned, the little shivers and writhes of his body giving away just how sensitive those marks were. “Anders…” His fingers started to work at his robes, wanting them out of the way so he could feel his bare skin.

\---

His robes weren’t exactly simple to unravel, but he could feel what he wanted and he pulled back from him to assist him in getting them out of the way. His eyes were locked on the elf’s as he unclasped his jacket and let it fall, before doing the same with his outer robes and loosening the drawstrings of his inner robes from where they was held tight at his chest. They began to part and rather than get up and let it fall completely, he shrugged out of it and let them puddle at his waist, revealing his bare chest to him. Without the bulk of the robes he looked smaller, but his skin was without flaw, apart from age, and there was a strength to be seen in it, even as thin as it was. There he paused, waiting to see what the elf would think or how he would react.

\---

For a moment, Fenris studied him, surprised to see how much the robes added to what was a narrow frame. He met his eyes after he’d gotten a chance to take him in, then leaned in close to start pressing kisses along his collarbone. His fingers roamed his sides, the touch as light as the gentle lyrium that accompanied it.

\---

His fingers were from another world and his head tipped back as he groaned, feeling as if he’d never been properly touched in his life. His hand slid up into Fenris’ hair and he cradled the back of his head, encouraging him to keep kissing him while he lost himself to the feel of fingers on skin that had gone neglected for so long.

\---

He found a spot near Anders’ shoulder where he began to suck on his skin, deciding he wouldn’t be the only one marked tonight. He twisted and began to ease back onto the pillows, pulling the mage on his lap down with him. He sought out his lips again once they were laying down, giving him brief, hungry little kisses.

\---

He sank down with him, letting go of him so he could brace himself against the mattress, but the positioning brought with it some reservations. Strong enough to prevent him from completely losing himself with the need pounding beneath his skin. “Fenris,” he breathed, returning the little kisses with just as much hunger, but otherwise holding back.

\---

He could feel him holding back a little and he looked up to him, his eyes dark with lust. He kissed him once more before he could bring himself to respond. “What’s wrong?” He didn’t want to stop and he found himself stroking his fingers up Anders’ arms, trying to lure him in closer.

\---

His hands were so enthralling it was difficult to not to sink down into him and ignore why this wasn’t okay. “I want you,” he admitted, since there was no point in denying it. He’d felt a budding attraction for some time and if everything hadn’t come to a screeching halt before, he probably would have gone through with it. “But I won’t be your revenge against Hawke.”

\---

“...You’re not. I kissed you before I knew what Hawke had done.” He had done Hawke wrong by letting that moment get the better of him and kissing Anders, but he felt considerably less guilty about it now. “If you want me, just relax.”

\---

That was easier said than done, though the continued glow that he wanted to cradle himself in helped. “Why did you?” He could no longer accept that it had just happened, he had to know what could have made the elf want him. A mage. A mage that he, until recently, couldn’t stand and wanted dead. The unspoken question that followed was why he was he doing it still. He’d felt guilty about it and surely, even learning what he had, he still wanted to return to Hawke when all of this was through?

\---

“The more I learn about you, the more I feel like you understand me in a way no one else could. The more I know you, the more I want you.” This was harder to say now that his blood was starting to cool and he found himself unable to meet his eyes. He turned to his side, using his hands to help ease Anders down onto the mattress beside him, but never breaking contact. “You’re not what I thought you were.”

\---

The change in position was welcome and laid down beside him, studying his face intently. This was not something he ever imagined hearing from him and it made his heart pick up in a way that was scary, but thrilling. “You aren’t either,” he murmured, knowing that what Fenris was describing was something that he’d been going through himself. He’d thought of it as friendship, but it had become clear with the kiss that it wasn’t and that he was feeling more for him than that. He reached out hesitantly and lightly placed a trembling hand on the cool metal over his chest, wanting to touch him, but scared of this topic they were breaching.

\---

He nodded solemnly, glad that the mage had also seen something in him that he hadn’t before. It had been so much easier to just follow his instincts while he was driven by hunger and need. Now that things had quieted, he wasn’t sure what to do with himself. His fingers moved to unclasp his chest plate, then moved to Anders’ hand and guided the fingers to his bare chest so the man would be able to feel the rapid pounding of his heart without armor to obscure it.

\---

He let him guide him and as soon as he felt it, his palm pressed firmly over his heart. His own was mirroring the pace, harder than ever. “Take it off,” he breathed, wanting to be able to see him and feel their bare skin touch. His eyes had fixed down on where his hand was pressed, but he forced his eyes up to try and meet his, wariness in his gaze.

\---

The pressure on his chest was just enough not to sting, but he didn’t feel the need to warn him. He’d only ever known the man to have gentle hands. He worked off the top half of his armor, leaving himself bare from the waist up just as Anders was, a faint aura of light surrounding his skin now that he had less clothing to hide the glow of his lyrium. “Better?”

\---

He gave a nod and then slid in against him, pressing them flush and wrapping his arm around him. Their faces were inches apart and he rested their foreheads together so that all he could see were his eyes. “Better,” he murmured, his body singing for the contact between them and the blanket of lyrium that fell over him.

\---

Fenris draped an arm over Anders, finding something so comfortable and familiar about lying like this even though he’d never done it with this man. He felt better than he had since leaving Kirkwall and he met his gaze more serenely now that he no longer had to try to express what was going on in his mind. His free hand settled over Anders’, holding it over his heart as it continued to race despite how comfortable he was getting.

\---

He was quiet for a long time, just taking in the intimacy between them, his thumb slowly stroking back and forth over his chest. When his lips parted, it was to say something that he’d known for a long time, but he’d refused to allow himself take in. “You’re so beautiful.” He’d seen it at the beginning and he’d seen it lately, but he hadn’t allowed himself look at him like he was right now, even though all he could see were the eyes staring back at him. They were as beautiful as the rest of him, so it was a fair statement.

\---

The words made him tense briefly, a little shocked to hear them. Hawke liked to compliment him, of course, but never in words quite like that. He closed the tiny distance between them to give him a soft, fleeting kiss. “...No one has ever said that about me when they weren’t intending to buy me.”

\---

His eyes flickered between his, reading confusion, but knowing what that implied. The look turned sad and rather than respond verbally, since there was little he could say, he lifted his lips and pressed a kiss to his forehead. A kiss meant to comfort, rather than trying to brush away the reality of his past with meaningless words.

\---

The gesture was so tender that he couldn’t help but hold him a little tighter. “It sounds so much better when you say it.” He murmured with a slight smirk, wanting to enjoy the words for what they were. It had been mages who said them before, to compliment Danarius about his pet and his craftsmanship rather than him, but this mage had already proven to be different from them in so many ways.

\---

When he settled back, he did so a little further way, just so he could take in his entire face. He caught the smirk and he returned it with a little one of his own, but it was softer. “Does it? Well then, you really are beautiful.” He had known the elf to turn many eyes and he’d heard people try to bed him over the years, so it was a little sad to him that no one had ever said such to him. What had Hawke called him? The thought was unwelcome and it made him tense, but he didn’t want to let him ruin this, not yet.

\---

He felt him tense and though he didn’t know the reason, he began to stroke his back gently, giving him an extra potent little rush of lyrium to soothe him. “I’m glad you think so. You’re getting more handsome by the day, in all truth. Keep letting me take watch so you can sleep and eating regular warm meals and I won’t be able to take my eyes off of you in another week or so.” He said this with a gentle smirk, but he meant it. He really had started to look so much better since he’d had an opportunity to work less and take better care of himself on the ship.

\---

His smirk turned wry, but his eyes were relaxed, the flow of lyrium keeping him even more agreeable to opening himself up to him. “I use to get stares all over the Circle, so I know you’re telling the truth.” It was a tease, but he wasn’t lying. “I know I’ve looked better. It’s just hard to care about little things like appearances when there’s more important things to be worrying about.”

\---

“Well, I’ve made you take better care of yourself with even more important things to worry about. So perhaps I’ll just keep that up and see just how stunning you can be when you’re not running on empty.” He wasn’t one to talk, but all he’d ever known was running on empty. His body was well adapted and didn’t have the look of exhaustion that Anders’ often did.

\---

“In truth, I miss all of that. I haven’t helped anyone in weeks… I mean, ignoring the mangled arm, but that was just one man.” He’d devoted so much of himself to that clinic and having abandoned it left a hole in him. “I left without saying anything to them, I should have… left a note behind. Something. What will they do without me?”

\---

“Liar. You’ve helped me plenty. You healed my side _and_ have been teaching me. You haven’t taken any time off from helping people.” He cocked his head a little, watching him curiously. “Why did you flee Kirkwall so suddenly anyway?”

\---

While he was technically right, it wasn’t the same. As his companion, Fenris didn’t count. Helping him was just a part of traveling together and it wasn’t doing good for the world around him. Before he could explain this to him, the question threw him off and there was a considerable hesitation as he considered what he would tell him. “I was given a warning that the templars were after me. They knew where to find me, so I left.” He’d spooked, which was true enough, but it was far from the entire truth. It would have been easy to just relocate in the city, if that was all it was, but Fenris knew how he felt about being caught and he doubted he would read into his answer any more than that.

\---

“Then once we figure our way out of our current situation, we can return to your clinic someday. I’m not going to let any templars get their hands on you. Not after I’ve learned what I have about your history with them. I’ll kill any templar that even looks at you the wrong way.” He assured him, a frown on his lips. He’d been so reluctant to kill them on principle, and as far as most mages went, he’d still probably let them do their duty, but not with Anders.

\---

His brows lifted slightly and the thumb that was stroking his chest quickened slightly. “That is the history of all mages with them,” he told him softly, not trying to push, just...nudge. “Besides, I won’t be returning to Kirkwall. I spent too much time there and accomplished little for it, I will have to find somewhere else to do what I must. I just wish there was someone there that could take my place so they weren’t left alone.”

\---

He nestled in closer, pressing their foreheads together once more. His eyes were low and he ran his fingers slowly up the mage’s spine as he considered what he said. He doubted it was the history of all mages with them and even if it was, he still wasn’t interested in defending all mages against the templars. Not after everything he’d seen. “They will find a way to make do. People in need always have found another way to make do. In the meantime, I will keep you safe. And if you need someone to help, I’m sure it won’t be long before someone runs me through with a sword again. Until then, we can keep things a little calmer and work on reading.”

\---

The touch to his spine was enough to make his eyes drift shut while his comment about the sword brought a burst of a chuckle and a smile that lingered on his lips. “Yes, reading is better.” He didn’t want the warrior to be injured at all, much less on his behalf, but if it happened, he would be there to help him one way or another. The protectiveness would be more jarring if he didn’t already stay around him at all times and glare at anyone who so much squinted at him, but it was odd to hear him speak so… passionately about keeping him safe.

\---

Reading wasn’t nearly as much of a rush as a good fight, but it was far less painful and even less messy. Rather than say anything, he closed the distance to kiss those smiling lips. It was soft, but he let it linger, unlike the fleeting kisses he’d given him since they laid down together. He was so relaxed with the mage stroking his chest so gently, but he still craved the contact with him even if his blood was no longer racing.

\---

The kiss made his smile grow briefly, then relax, drawing it out as much as he was. It had been a long time since he’d been kissed like this, since most of his exchanges with Hawke had been of a more heated nature. It went on for a while, before he mumbled softly against his lips, sounding like he was beginning to fall asleep. “I can’t remember the last time I felt this nice.”

\---

The elf found himself smiling, but couldn’t break away enough to really bring the kiss to an end. “I feel the same.” He kissed him once more before speaking up again, still close enough that their lips grazed. “You sound tired, Anders. Sleep right here tonight. I’ll keep an eye on things, just get some rest.”

\---

“You should sleep too,” he protested, but he knew better than to think he would. He’d made his desire known, all the same, and his hand went still as he gave in. It took a little time for him to fall under and it was a very gradual plunge, so at peace that the transition from wake to sleeping was almost seamless.

\---

“I might.” Was his whispered response and he let his own hands still once he felt the mage start to drift to sleep. He was close to needing rest himself again and as relaxed as he felt, it seemed a little easier than usual to convince himself that it was safe to catch a few hours of deep sleep. Especially with the mage in his arms and himself between the man and the door should any intruder come in. He trusted himself to wake right away if there was any trouble and he knew he’d sleep easier with Anders in his arms just as he’d slept easier with Hawke in his arms. He closed his eyes and though it took a couple hours to truly drift off into slumber, he fell into a deep and heavy sleep. His arms were still tight around Anders but the rest of his body was entirely relaxed, looking so peaceful as he got some much needed rest.


	13. Chapter 13

In the morning, Anders began to wake around his usual time. The last couple of times he woke feeling like this had been when Fenris had assisted his sleep, so he subconsciously expected him to be there when he opened his eyes. What he didn’t expect was to find himself wrapped up in him and to see the elf… sleeping? “Fen-...” he trailed off, realizing that he didn’t want to wake him. Everything that had happened the previous night came back to him and couldn’t help but stare at him, wondering what had possibly come over them.

The fact that the elf was sleeping at all was nothing short of a miracle, but then he remembered what he’d told him the last time they’d discussed this in depth. He’d said that he only really slept when he felt safe… but the mage knew better than to read too deeply into that. He knew better than to read too deeply into any of this, even though they’d shared a lot of intimate truths that they probably shouldn’t have. They’d grown close and found fondness for each other, that’s all this was…

He couldn’t get caught up in this. He wanted to kick himself. What was there to get caught up in? There was nothing. This was nothing. Even as he tried to convince himself, he could feel his heart picking up from the memory of last night and he knew he’d gotten himself into trouble.

He eased himself away from him, carefully working himself out of his arms so he could get up and put some space between them. On his feet, he looked down at him, something sad crossing his expression, before he moved away and worked his robes back on to make himself decent. He gathered up his parchment on the desk and carried it over to what he’d left on his own bed, sorting it all together and trying to distract himself from what had happened.

\---

He groaned a little when the mage moved out of his arms, frowning in his sleep. His hand groped the sheets briefly for him, but when he found the other end of the pillow, he tugged that in and cradled that to his chest instead. He could hear the rustle of parchment and while it disturbed him enough to make him shift toward the sound a little, he was nowhere near waking. He needed the sleep and he looked completely blissfully at rest.

\---

That done, he decided to put the desk and chair back to where they belonged. Both of these he lifted off the floor so he could move them silently and then he set them down lightly. Just like that, last night hadn’t happened. Except for the bare chested elf sleeping on the opposite side of the room, of course.

\---

It was shortly after the room had been set right that Fenris began to stir. Rather than snap out of sleep like he had on the few occasions he'd really fallen under since their journey began, he was slowly waking - groaning and stretching but in no hurry to open his eyes. When he finally did, they settled on the mage serenely. “You got out of bed without waking me? Either you're very sneaky or I was very tired.”

\---

He looked over at him when he began to wake and when addressed, he offered him a slight smile, though he felt uncertain. “Probably a bit of both,” he replied lightly, sitting down on the edge of his own bed. He wasn’t sure what to do with himself, but he didn’t particularly want to bring up anything that had been said or had happened last night.

“I’m sure you’re missed this morning,” he commented, talking about the work he did to help out on the ship.

\---

“More than likely.” That was enough incentive to get moving so he sat up, finding his discarded armor and pulling it back on. He kept stealing little glances at the mage while he put himself together, also seeming unsure of what to say about the night before.

\---

When he started to dress, he averted his eyes to give him some privacy, but he couldn’t help but peek at him when it seemed he was almost finished. In doing so, he caught the warrior’s eyes, which made him immediately drop his own and pushed him in action. He stood and stretched, heading for the door and waiting beside it for the warrior to finish.

\---

When he was dressed and his hair was somewhat tame, Fenris joined him in the doorway. He looked to him and opened his mouth as if he had something to say. But in truth he had no idea what to say. So instead he just gave him a smirk and hurried out the door to get to work.

\---

He held his breath when he stood before him, waiting for what it was he had to say, but when all he was given was a smirk, he flushed as the tension broke. As with every morning, while Fenris went off to work, he went to join the line for breakfast. The woman that gave him his share offered him a smile as he took it with thanks. He moved to sit in his usual spot, where he could enjoy watching the activity of the ship and be within sight of the warrior, so he didn’t have to fret about where the mage was whenever he turned around.

\---

He usually kept focused on his work, only checking once in a great while to make sure he could see the mage now that he'd had a couple weeks to build trust that the other would stay close. But he found himself glancing a little more often. Not to make sure he was close, but just because he found himself wanting to whenever he didn't have to keep his eyes on his work.

\---

He use to sometimes watch Fenris work, though far less of late, but he never really focused on him. His eyes would rest on him for a time and then wander to the next deckhand, watching as they all worked together to perform their morning rituals. This morning, he couldn’t help but frequently seek him out, though he tried not to and he kept such glances brief.

During one such glance, he saw the warrior look in his direction and their gazes met from a distance. Anders felt a strange rush of embarrassment that brought with it another flush and he quickly stuffed his mouth with the rest of his food, peering out towards the water.

\---

He also felt a little sheepish when their eyes met and he quickly turned around to resume what he was doing. So quickly that he almost ran right into another deckhand. He made up an excuse about the sun getting in his eyes and wasted no time getting back to work.

\---

Usually he waited for Fenris to finish his morning duties to go to work, but he decided to get an early start and he went to find the herbalist. She usually set up shop in the same place each day, though not always. Today she had and while technically not out of sight, it wasn’t as easy to see the area where the merchants congregated from where Fenris was, which was usually while he waited, but he knew that the warrior would know where to find him if he noticed him gone.

He greeted the herbalist and, to his surprise, there were already a couple of passengers waiting nearby, specifically for him. Word had got out about him and his remedies and despite his claims of not being able to help people the night before, he usually assisted one or two people a day. No, it wasn’t like his work in Darktown, but his advice had saved many a headache and upset stomach during their journey. It was probably why, in part, some of the passengers had warmed up to him enough to not openly avoid him or throw him looks.

\---

Finding Anders was missing the next time he looked always gave him a little unease, but he knew where to look. He relaxed when he found him tending to passengers and so he decided it was time for his own breakfast. He rarely actually stopped to eat it, just took his share and ate it as he walked the ship looking for the people who would usually hand him some coin for a little work. Of course the merchant who reminded him of Isabela called him over, wanting his help in setting up her stand. He was a little too distracted to even snort or roll his eyes at her overt flirting and it wasn't until she commented that if he kept glancing over his shoulder at Anders while he was walking he'd eventually fall overboard that he laughed under his breath and focused on helping her.

\---

It was easy enough to help the pair. A salve for a rash and some herbs for a cough, both purchased from the herbalist. With them tended to, he started to help her make a large batch of a poultice that she often sold to the men who worked the ship for the callouses and blistered that formed on their hands. After a while, she pointed out that ‘his friend’ was watching him and he looked up to see that Fenris was working nearby. He couldn’t help a slight smile that he kept to himself, his eyes on his work, ignoring the herbalist’s knowing look.

\---

The work day seemed to go a little faster than usual, especially since he seemed to be in better spirits than usual. The little smile he’d occasionally catch on Anders’ lips when he stole looks at him made him think perhaps the other was also in a good mood. He kept himself busy until it was time for them to meet up for their dinner as they usually did. When he finally approached the mage again, he found himself struggling to meet the man’s eyes, despite having spent far too much time looking at him that day. “Ready to grab dinner and settle in?”

\---

When Fenris approached him, he was pleased to see him, but like him, he couldn’t bring himself to really look at him. From anyone looking in on the outside, they undoubtedly made for an awkward pair. “Sure. Want to bet if it’s yesterday’s stew?” The meals tended to be the same most days, so it wouldn’t be a bet worth taking. He bid the herbalist goodbye and in doing so, saw that she was looking at them with a smirk. He quickly turned away, flustered, and nodded Fenris on, so they could head off.

\---

“I think yesterday's stew is a very safe bet.” He missed some variety in his diet, but he wasn't going to start complaints about consistent warm meals. He gave the herbalist a nod to acknowledge her as they left, but her smirk made him a little bashful as well so he hurried onward.

\---

After a short wait in line, they had bowls of stew, and Anders made his way to somewhere quiet to eat it. As much as he loved to people watch and be around others, he made a habit of isolating himself. Not always, but most of the time. It was safer for everyone, even though there wasn’t any imminent danger here. The stew was warm and slightly bland, but it filled his stomach and he appreciated it for that much.

\---

Fenris followed along, as he often did, and settled nearby for his own meal. He was looking forward to more varied and flavorful food in Orlais, but for now he was content enough with the same stew. As with his work day, he found himself drawn to sneaking little glances at the mage. He really didn't understand why it was that his gaze just kept wandering back, but perhaps he was just looking forward to having him alone again that evening.

\---

As he had been all day, he was forcing himself to look elsewhere and he seemed very intent on his meal. “Productive day?” he asked lightly, even though he knew there was little to be said about it. It was better than silence, especially when he was feeling so uncertain about what to say or do around him.

\---

“Considering I slept in and missed half of the morning catch? I still think so.” He'd worked hard and with his stomach filling, he was looking forward to getting cleaned up and settling in for the night. “It looked like you had one too. I saw your line of patients.”

\---

He chuckled, a slight smile on his lips. “I’d hardly call that a line or them patients. Just a couple of passengers that wanted advice.” He’d had someone else wander up at some point, but that was all the action he got that day. “It won’t be much longer until we’re off this ship and everyday is spent in a library instead.” Just like his life in the Circle. He pushed the thought side and finished off the last of his stew, but he made no move to take his bowl back or head to their room.

\---

“Which will be considerably less boring for me if I can read.” He was looking forward to his lesson that evening, though he'd gotten too distracted by the mage to finish the previous night's word list. The thought made him chuckle under his breath and he finished his stew as well, taking the initiative to grab both of their bowls to take them back.

\---

“The thrilling adventures of traveling with me.” Learning to read was the better end of the bargain, wasn’t it? Then again, he had a bodyguard that was devoted to keeping him alive, but that had trended toward annoying more than it did useful. It was rare that he would lead the way and so he was left standing there in surprise when he moved  things forward. Realizing that he should follow, he trailed after him.

\---

“I like our travels a little less thrilling. I don't mind a fight at all, but if we can complete our journey without either of us winding up in chains again, I'd prefer things quiet.” He turned in their bowls, then looked back to the mage. “Want to wash up or head to the room?” The shared washroom had wooden stalls that provided adequate privacy, so he stuck close to Anders even when it was time to rinse themselves or their clothes. Though now he'd seen some of the body beneath those robes so he had a feeling he'd be imagining the other even if he couldn't see him. That thought brought a flush to his skin and he dropped his eyes in embarrassment.

\---

A somber point, but it was something they’d both been subjected to recently. He would prefer that neither of them experience that again. “It has been long enough,” he agreed with the change in subject, thinking about the last time he’d given himself a thorough wash. Only the wealthiest on the ship cleaned daily. He groaned in complaint, “Ug, how I long for a warm bath.” He noticed the reaction and even though he wasn’t quite sure the source, it succeeded in making him feel shy. “...but I suppose a rag and some water will have to do. Let’s go.” He made his way to the washroom where a man seemed to have just finishing up cleaning up and was on his way out.

\---

“Perhaps wherever we stay in Orlais will have a proper bath.” He mused hopefully as they stepped into the washroom. He closed himself into one of the few stalls and began to strip off his armor. The water was always cold and the rags were always threadbare, but it was still nice to scrub away the sweat and seaspray from days of work on the deck.

\---

He always took longer than his counterpart and it was in part due the fact that he took the time to heat his water. It was already a miserable experience and so he did what he could to make it bearable. When the water starting to steam, he finally stripped out of his robes and laid them aside. He hadn’t given them a thorough wash since the fishing village they’d found a ride from, but spot cleaned them every time he washed himself, so he spent a while checking the fabric for places that needed it. Only when he was done with that did he focus on himself, scrubbing his skin clean with what was at that point warm water.

\---

As usual, Fenris emerged from his stall first. His armor was especially clingy, damp as it was, and his hair hung in his eyes. He was shivering a little, which also wasn't unusual, but the humid evening air outside usually warmed him quickly enough after his frigid wash. He waited patiently near the door as he always did, trying to keep his mind clear.

\---

When finished, he took the time to tie up his damp locks, murmuring to himself about how they were in need of another trim. He cut his hair himself and so the ends tended to be somewhat choppy, but with the way he kept it pulled back, it was hardly noticeable. He pulled his robes back on and then left his stall looking refreshed. He saw Fenris waiting for him and his eyes slid over him once, before he started towards the door so they could go back to their room. “Nothing feels better than cleaning up days of grime from your skin, don’t you agree?”

\---

“I disagree.” He moved out of the room after him and sighed in relief when the warm night air hit his skin after a brief chill. “Taking a hot bath to clean up days of grime with a glass of wine in hand feels better.”

\---

“Well, of course. I didn’t specify the means. I would take a bath over a rag and a trough any day.” He strolled to their room, feeling a lot more like himself while his skin was pink and able to breathe. He moved to sit down on the edge of his bed, giving himself a stretch, before letting his arms rest behind him. “You know, if you truly desire wine as much as you say, we do have enough coin to spare.” They didn’t have much, but he’d mentioned wanting it many times since they got on the ship.

\---

“Don't tempt me.” He gave him a little smirk as he sat down on the edge of his own bed. “Let's see how much our accommodations will cost in Orlais. If we still have a little to spare, I'll get a bottle or two.” Fenris pulled out his pieces of parchments, wanting to review them for a moment before their lesson began.

\---

He saw him getting to work and so after taking a moment to just bask in the comfort of the day’s end, he got up to began moving everything back into place. It would probably be simplest to leave the table beside his bed, but that took up too much room in what was already lacking, so he resided himself shifting the furniture back and forth. “While you finish yesterday’s sheet, I will make up a new one.” He hadn’t the chance that day, so he took a seat and got started, pulling in a fresh sheet of parchment to make a list for him. On it, he included ‘wine’ and ‘drunk’ with an amused smile.

\---

Fenris seemed eager to get on with his lessons, finishing up the previous words before going on to the next. When he got the new list, he smirked and immediately pointed a word out that he knew. “Wine.” He said confidently, having seen it on many labels back when he would be granted sips of it from his master and far more often since he'd taken to drinking a bit too much of it himself when he was alone. However, he'd never seen the word ‘drunk’ before, so after scanning the list for any other words he knew, he started sounding them out from the beginning.

\---

“Clever, but I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised,” he chuckled, finding it even more amusing that he already knew the word. Unlike the night before, he was a bit more relaxed, though he still kept just a little bit of distance between them. He watched him work his way through the words, noticing with some small measure of pride that he seemed to need less and less help. “Perhaps after this, I can make a list on the back. Words that you would like to know,” he mused thoughtfully, since he’d been completely dictating their lessons so far.

\---

He had chuckled when he worked through the word ‘drunk’ to accompany his ‘wine’ and looked quite pleased when he got through the list with little help. He looked to Anders thoughtfully at the suggestion and shrugged. “I want to know all of them. Maybe some that will help in Orlais. ‘Spirit’, ‘separation’, things like that.”

\---

“All work, no play,” he commented, since he wasn’t taking advantage of the offer. He plucked the sheet up and flipped it over, making use of the empty side to begin jotting down the words he suggested, along with the name of the land itself, so he would be able to recognize it. Alongside ‘spirit’ and ‘separation’, he included, ‘Fade’, ‘demon’, ‘possession’, ‘join’, and so on and so forth.

\---

“I suppose we can have more fun tomorrow night. You can add ‘fuck’ to the list and other such colorful words.” He chuckled, but then grew serious as he worked over the new words with Anders. It was clear that the lesson was drawing to a close and while they usually went to their respective beds, after the previous night Fenris wasn't sure what to expect and so he began to fidget a little in his uncertainty after the last word.

\---

The scratching of his quill came to an abrupt stop in the middle of a word when he heard the word ‘fuck’. His eyes flicked up and he stared at the warrior, but it was clear with his chuckle that he was joking and with a terrible flush, he quickly resumed what he was doing, as if nothing had been said at all. He offered him the sheet when he was done and his fingers fiddled with the quill as he worked through them, some of them a bit more difficult that what he’d been teaching him. When all was done, he leaned back and started fussing with putting everything away.

\---

Fenris tucked his own parchments away, but his eyes were on Anders. He watched him expectantly, wanting to see if he would want to go back to his own bed. As if the previous night had never happened. He moved back on his mattress, leaving plenty of room for the other but watching him silently.

\---

When there was nothing else to do, he glanced back in Fenris’ direction, seeing him laying there and watching him. He met his gaze and paused, before abruptly turning back to his own bed. “Goodnight,” he told him, his heart beating faster than he approved of, climbing into bed and keeping his back to him, oddly tense.

\---

“Anders...” The tension in the room was thick and he felt his own heart beating too fast. After a long pause, he just closed his eyes. “Goodnight.” He didn't know what to think of the other choosing his own bed and he'd likely get up and pace the floor to work out some of this strange anxiety once the mage was asleep.

\---

The sound of his name made him hold his breath as he waited, but what came next was… disappointing. It shouldn't be, but it was. He laid in silence for a full minute, conflicted, before slowly turning over to look at him.

\---

Hearing Anders shift made him open his eyes again and he found the mage looking at him. Deciding to go for it, he asked, “Do you want to sleep over here tonight?” The question was very quiet, the space he'd left for him on the mattress still open and unused.

\---

For the first time that day, he didn’t flee from Fenris’ gaze when they ended up looking at each other from across the room. The question made his fingers pick at the blanket as he considered it, but he already knew the answer. Rather than say anything, he slowly pushed himself up and approached his bed. He looked down at him, his toe nudging the floor, before lowering down beside him, though he left a little space between them.

\---

When he was joined, he felt his body relax a little, some of the tension leaving when his invitation was accepted. After a moment of stillness, he reached over, his fingers trailing lightly over his cheek. “That’s a little better.”

\---

The touch made his cheeks warm, but he wasn’t as shy as he had been all day. “...yeah?” His eyes were fixed on the warrior’s and there was something very calm in expression, in spite of all the anxiety and tension he’d felt around him.

\---

“Don’t you think so?” He slid his fingers back further, letting them weave into the hair that Anders had swept back after they bathed. He also looked much more serene now that they were meeting eye to eye rather than stealing glances through the day. It was a bit of a relief to see that Anders looked so calm lying beside him even without any lyrium involved, not liking to think that he would only relax around him when his skin was aglow.

\---

“Yeah,” he repeated, his voice hushed. His hand lifted and he brushed his fingers over the back of the hand as it slid into his hair, before tracing them slowly up his arm. “Just a little better?”

\---

“Just a little better.” He gave a little shiver when the fingers grazed over his tattoos so lightly, liking such a light touch though it didn’t elicit quite the response that Anders’ tongue running over them had. “You’re still awfully far away. I liked last night better.”

\---

Implication caught, he scooted in to close so their bodies were pressed together and their faces were close. “Is that better?” It did feel good, but lacking the skin contact they’d had before, it left something to be desired. The hand on his arm continued to run the length of it slowly, trailing up and down.

\---

“Much better.” Fenris was also missing the feel of their skin pressed together, but the proximity alone made him much more comfortable. He studied his eyes for a long moment before he leaned in to close the last of the distance, claiming his lips in a slow, gentle kiss. The fingers in Anders’ hair curled in the strands, gripping them loosely.

\---

He saw what was happening just before it did and his eyes drifted shut as they kissed. He couldn’t help but arch a little closer, wanting to feel his body pressing against him as they kissed, even as mellow as it was. He wasn’t trying to make it heated, rather he savored the gentleness.

\---

He could feel him pressing in and his other hand moved to slide around him and hold him closer. Deep down he knew that nothing about this should feel so right, but it did and he was more at ease right now than he had been all day. He kept his kiss slow and easy, relaxing into it even though part of him yearned to get his blood racing as it had been the night before.

\---

The arm around him made him arch even harder and he slid an arm around him in turn, his fingers finding the seams of his armor and digging. It didn’t take long until they were trying to slip under and he began to attempt to blindly remove them. He just wanted all of the intimacy he could get from him, starved of it as he was.

\---

He could feel what he was doing and smiled against his lips, letting him fumble with his armor a moment before he pulled away so he could start to unfasten it. “Take yours off too…” After all, they both wore somewhat complicated clothing. He tossed the top of his armor aside and even unlaced his trousers until they rode low on his hips before settling on the mattress again.

\---

He pulled back from him and watched him start to undress, before doing the same. Unlike before, he let his robes slide all the way off of him and fall to the floor. All he was left in was his smallclothes, but he left them on as he settled back onto his side, watching Fenris to see what he might do and to admire the smooth planes of muscle and the intricate lines that ran over them.

\---

He watched him undress further, his eyes roaming the new skin that was revealed to him. He reached out to run a hand slowly up his bare thigh, pausing to rest on his hip. He leaned in to press a few soft kisses to Anders’ jaw, pleased to have some of the clothing between them out of the way.

\---

The touch felt like fire on his skin and he yearned for him to keep going, but he squeezed his eyes shut. “Fenris,” he breathed, his own fingers sliding over his side to feel the warmth of his body. “You mustn’t tempt me.” It was the same warnings that he’d given to Hawke, but they’d gone ignored. This was a lot more intense than that had been, however, and he was aware of just how low his trousers were sitting.

\---

“And what if I want to tempt you?” He breathed the words lightly against his skin as he kissed his way along his jaw. His fingers toyed with the fabric of his smallclothes, flirting with the waist of them. “What then, Anders?”

\---

He couldn’t help his heavy breaths and the slight shake of his head, fighting the need hearing him say that gave him. Then, without warning, his hand slid down and he grabbed the line of his trousers and he shoved them down, his weight suddenly shifting as he forced him back and came over him, hand working to bare him completely. For all his want of quiet intimacy, he was easily riled.

\---

The sudden shift took his breath away, but he found himself smirking when he wound up on his back. His hands shifted down to help Anders shove his pants down and off, leaving him entirely bare. Not an inch of his skin was unmarked, even the most intimate parts of his body carved deeply with tattoos. He watched Anders closely, curious about the change in him and what he would think of seeing him bare.

\---

At first his eyes took him in hungrily, but the more he saw, the more he was brought to pause. “Beautiful,” he murmured under his breath, almost to himself, his hand beginning to trace a line that ran over his hip and down to his thigh. He was too beautiful. It was too much. In his smalls, a bulge was forming, but he was too caught up in admiration to notice.

\---

The word made him glance away briefly in a way that was rather shy, but when he looked back to him, his hands moved down Anders’ side to start pushing down his smallclothes. He wanted to see it all, especially since he could see a hint of his growing arousal through the fabric.”So are you. I want to see all of you…”

\---

“No, it would not be just to use the same words that might describe you to describe me.” He didn’t even mean that in a way that might suggest he was unattractive, he was just being honest that he had nothing on the elf. He helped him to ease down the rest of his clothing, until they were off and he was just as bare. The growing erection he was sporting was considerably sized and as his fingers continue to wander him, it stiffened even more.

\---

His eyes fell on the hardening cock and he licked his lips, eager to please it. His fingers curled around it and as he began to stroke him, his lyrium flared to life over every bit of his skin. He raised his eyes to his face, wanting to see how he would react to being touched in such a way.

\---

He hadn’t expected that so suddenly and it hit him hard, his eyes slamming shut and his mouth falling open in a strangled groan as his entire body stiffened. His hand slid off of him and he gripped the sheets, unable to do anything by take it for several seconds, before he forced his eyes to open. The glow lit up the dim room and he shook his head, his hand lifting to clutch at his wrist and stop him. “Don’t… I want to be able to focus.” He didn’t want him to use his lyrium, even though the mere thought of it sent a lick of pleasure rolling up his spine.

\---

“If you insist.” He stopped his flow of lyrium then, darkening the room once more. After a beat, he began to stroke him again using only his hand. “Focus all you like.”

\---

It felt so good, even without the added perk of this particular lover, and he was eager to return the favor, his hand slipping off his wrist so he could cup him and squeeze, his lusted gaze fixed on Fenris’. He was bracing himself on his free arm and he dipped down to capture his lips in a hungry kiss.

\---

He gasped softly against his lips when he was squeezed, his reaction an odd mix of tensing a little, but also arching himself into the hand to encourage him. He kissed him just as ravenously, his skilled and practiced hand applying extra pressure and friction in all the tender places he thought Anders might like.

\---

Though his hand didn't have quite the flair Fenris’ did, he had handled men enough to know how to satisfy him. His fingers curled around him and he had to consciously refrain from using his little tricks that drove whoever he was bedding wild. It would bring all of this to a grinding halt and while he was being touched by another hand for the first time in months, he didn’t want anything to stop this from happening. It was clearly doing a lot for him, a lot more than it should, and he broke the kiss so he could attack his neck, tasting him as he had the night before.

\---

He moaned softly, tipping his head back to let him have his way with his neck. In truth, he was pleased that he was so eager to suck the skin there even without lyrium pouring from it. He rocked himself into the hand working him, the friction feeling so incredible and making him realize just how much he'd missed being touched. His hand worked Anders steadily but paid extra attention to the spots that got the best reaction, wanting to see just how riled he could get.

\---

His skin was clean and he could really taste him, but he almost missed the saltiness he’d found before. “I like it when you taste like a day’s work,” he murmured against his skin, finding a spot to nip. The hand on him squeezed as his fingers made him tremble and it wasn’t long until he released him entirely to slide his hand down to his thighs and to push his legs open. There he paused, waiting to see what the warrior’s reaction would be.

\---

He tensed again when he was squeezed, but it was brief and he relaxed quickly. “Then taste me again tomorrow night.” Fenris let the hand part him with ease, spreading his thighs further in invitation.

\---

The response gave him a rush of heat that went straight to his groin and he looked down at him with a carnal expression that gave him more youth than any other. “Wait…” He ran his hand over the inside of his thigh slowly, before getting up and going over to his supplies. He rummaged and produced a small glass jar. “I’ve no oil, but this will do.” He returned to the bed, sliding in between his legs, and opening the jar to coat himself.

\---

“Use what you like. I can take it without.” Though he certainly wouldn't say no to a little lubricant to make it easier. His eyes were fixed on him, so captivated to see this hunger in the mage and he tipped his hips up a little, eager for him to press into him.

\---

He knew what that was like and usually he preferred to be prepared than to have that be necessary. While working himself, he couldn’t resist giving himself a little flicker of electricity, his fingers sparking, and that made him sigh in pleasure, before he leaned over him and positioned himself. He found his lips to give him a searing kiss as he pushed into him, sliding in with a groan until he was half-sheathed.

\---

Fenris kissed him hard, drawing in a slow breath as he was entered. It was thicker than he was used to, giving him more of a stretch than he'd anticipated. He had very good muscle control, so he gave the cock inside him a firm squeeze before he pushed his hips down to slide him further inside.

\---

The sensation was potent and he too riled to take his time and savor it. His hips drew back and like that, he was thrusting vigorously, his hands braced against the bed as he took him hard. His breaths were heavy, but muffled by the lips that he claimed ravenously, all of the buildup resulting in a fierce coupling.

\---

His fingers dug into Anders’ back when he started to ravage him, moaning into the heated kiss. He braced his feet on the mattress to meet his hips as hard as he could with the pace so wild. He never would have expected such a fierce, desperate tryst from Anders and it was clear from the arching of his spine and the gasping breaths muffled by the kiss that he couldn't get enough of it.

\---

The reactions spurred him on and he broke the kiss to look down at him, the amber of his eyes looking far darker with his pupils blown out. They trailed down his body, following the lines that lead down to where they met and he watched the way his body took him. He pushed himself up so he could take hold of his thighs and urge his legs up, making him bend so he could sink deeper with each firm thrust.

\---

The elf smirked despite his panting and he slid his legs up higher, more flexible than he had a right to be, and rested his legs on the mage’s shoulders. The new depth struck him just right and his fingers clawed at the sheets, moaning out his name as his legs began to shake.

\---

The sound of his name made him shiver and he groaned in response, taking in his reactions with rapt attention. Everything from his shaking legs, his heaving chest, the pleasure in his expression, all of  it was devastatingly erotic and it was getting to him. His desperate groans filled the room as his hips bucked wildly and it wasn’t long before a thick rush of seed filled the elf.

\---

He sucked in a sharp breath when he felt the warmth hit him, so pleased to feel him finish after the wild romp. He relaxed a little and lowered his legs when he was finished, reaching up to run his fingers up the mage’s arms to his shoulders. Still panting softly, Fenris began to smile as he caught his breath.

\---

He remained where he was, basking in satisfaction and recovering from all the effort that had exhausted him and made him sweat. The hands on his arms encouraged him to return the touch, his fingers sliding over his thighs as they lowered. His eyes fell on the need before him and without a word, he shifted back and leaned down, parting his lips and taking him into his mouth. He started to suck him without hesitation, bobbing his head as he met his gaze.

\---

Fenris had expected him to simply pull out when he moved back, so he looked quite surprised when Anders leaned down to suck him. He gasped and his fingers wound their way into the mages hair, the shaking of his legs suddenly renewed. It was almost too much but it was also so good, leaving him writhing and moaning in a desperate way that seemed a little extreme for being sucked.

\---

The reaction was unexpected and he started to smile around him, but he forced the expression away so he could continue what he was doing without impediment. He couldn’t take his eyes off of him and he wanted to see the moment he came to, knowing that it would be a sight. His hands continued to stroke his thighs encouragingly, wanting all of him and having no qualms about taking it.

\---

After being fucked so thoroughly, it wasn't going to take much to push him over the edge. His back arched sharply and the fingers twisted in his hair, tugging it free of the tie the mage used to keep it out of his face. “Anders…” The name came out in a desperate moan and it was the only warning he could manage before he began to spill heavily into his mouth.

\---

He didn’t mind the hands in his hair, in fact, he rather like the desperate way they were holding onto him. When he was finally rewarded for his efforts, he swallowed him and waited patiently until he’d taken all he had to give, before pulling off. Then he smiled and crawled up the bed to plop down beside him, a hand working its way around his waist to pull him close.

\---

As he recovered from the much needed orgasm, he found himself smiling as well. He settled against Anders once he was close, nestling his head to rest against his shoulder. Only when they were resting together did he call his lyrium forward again, wanting it to seep into the mage and help him relax.

\---

He sighed when the blanket of relaxation fell over him and his eyes fell shut. “I needed that,” he murmured, sounding rather happy, “I haven’t done that in months.” Months wasn’t that long ago and there was an implication behind his words that he didn’t recognize, too content.

\---

“...Months?” His own relaxation faded a little, but he was too spent to let the words work him up like they normally would. He frowned a little and tucked himself in closer as if the other's body heat might be enough to chase away the guilt and resentment that were creeping in on him now that his pleasure was subsiding.

\---

He looked down at him and it took a beat for it to click, but when it did, his eyes widened. “Oh! No. No, no it wasn’t-... No, it was a patient. I mean, no it wasn’t. I mean, it was, but not at the time. I would never… I treated him the day before and then he came back and…” He was babbling and beginning to flush, fully aware that he was making an idiot of himself. “Justice, he… it’d been a while and…” He shook his head and shut his mouth, since he wasn’t making any headway.

\---

He looked a little relieved when he explained and as he got flustered, he even began to smile again. “Justice did it? Slept with one of your former patients?” He sounded amused and relaxed in his arms.

\---

Luckily he was so flustered that the implied mention of the man between them, even right after fucking, didn’t stick. “Justice? Maker, no.” He looked properly horrified at the thought of the spirit ever using his body in such a way. “Justice doesn’t want me having sex at all. You know, like how he gets about me drinking.” He could count on a hand the number of times that he’d gotten laid since taking the spirit in and it was a pitiful amount. “It’s just… When the man started to, you know, come on to me, Justice didn’t...protest like he usually does.” That, added to the fact that it had been so long and with no signs of commitment from Hawke, he hadn’t been able to help himself.

\---

“No sex or drinking? No wonder Justice doesn’t like me.” He smirked and leaned in to nip Anders’ jaw. For the moment, his guilt was forgotten again and but he knew it was just a matter of time before the mage went to sleep and he’d have to confront what he’d done. “So he usually protests when you have sex with someone. Did he complain tonight?”

\---

He was fully aware how much it sucked having a spirit that objected to every vice that he might enjoy, but he was use to it. It was just one of many sacrifices he accepted, even if only begrudgingly. “Usually,” he agreed, but paused at the question. “No. He didn’t...” That plunged him into thought, surprised he’d let it happen without so much as a peep. He’d come to understand that allowing him to fuck his patient had been the spirit’s way of encouraging him to get over Hawke, but reasoning did he have for allowing this?

\---

“Good. I’d hate to think you had to endure him bitching in the back of your mind through all of that.” Though it would have been impressive if he’d stayed that fierce and focused even with protesting from Justice. He closed his eyes for a moment, simply enjoying the heat of his skin and scent of him that was a little sharper now with the fresh sheen of sweat.

\---

“It does tend to kill the mood,” he agreed, but he wasn’t paying as much attention to the conversation. He was trying to question the spirit, but wasn't getting anywhere, so after a while he just huffed and tightened his arm around the elf to get comfortable.

\---

He could hear that the other was a little distant, but he imagined it was because the other was tired. His fingers stroked absently over the other’s back, still giving him a gentle stream of lyrium. “Hopefully he continues to resist killing the mood.”

\---

He shut his eyes, not considering that the reason the spirit was being so quiet was the lyrium that they were both receiving. “That’s probably asking for too much, but it would be a blessing.” When he wasn’t pulling his foot out of his mouth, the lyrium was able to sooth him properly and he hummed as his body went soft.

\---

“It’s not asking too much. If he complains, we’ll get that wine and you can drink until you can’t hear him anymore.” He chuckled under his breath and let his fingers on the other’s back fall still. It felt so good to rest in his arms just like this and it made him wonder how he had managed to go so many nights without seeking this sort of comfort. But then, it was hard to remember at the moment that not long ago he wanted this man dead.

\---

His chuckle joined Fenris’ and when his expression returned to a relaxed state, a comfortable silence filled the room. When it seemed he’d started to drift, his hand gave his side a slight stroke in an absent show of affection, then stilled shortly before he actually fell under.


	14. Chapter 14

Only when he was certain he was asleep did Fenris stop the lyrium and let him rest on his own. He’d resume it if his sleep seemed troubled, but for the moment he wanted to focus on his thoughts. He’d just slept with another man. Not just any other man, but the man that Hawke had been messing around with while they’d been founding their relationship. He felt guilty for certain - just the thought of the betrayed look on Hawke’s face make his stomach turn and his chest ache, but at the same time, he didn’t regret it. Part of him was so glad that this had happened, because what he’d said was true: Anders was someone who could understand him in a way no one else could. This felt right, as wrong as it was, and he couldn’t bring himself to wish he could take it back. If this was so different than what he’d had with Hawke, how could he possibly go back to him, especially now that he’d proven unfaithful to the rogue?

He spent the night thinking it through, feeling ill, but at the same time, feeling warm any time he looked on the mage’s peaceful expression as he slumbered. When morning came, he carefully pulled out from the mage’s arms and climbed out of bed, moving to get dressed to start his work. His eyes fell on the red scarf he’d worn since the day it’d been given to him and his stomach gave a fresh turn of guilt. He couldn’t look at it, not now. Not when he wasn’t sure what to think about either of the men for certain. He took it off and stuffed it into the tiny travel pack he’d been accumulating while working on the ship before continuing to get dressed.

To take his mind off of things, he decided to wake the mage by sucking him dry before sending him off to breakfast so he could begin his morning work. Keeping his body busy had helped to ease his troubled mind and he worked even harder than usual, taking on more than was needed to really push himself. This kept him from the constant nervous glances he’d stolen through the day previous, but he did occasionally peak at the mage to flash him a little smirk if their eyes met.

\---

The morning had been pleasant and it wasn’t until they separated for the day that Anders really began to think about what they’d done. The entire day had been spent in thought and, in spite of himself, every time he’d accidentally caught Fenris’ gaze and saw his smirk, he felt an unwanted rush of warmth. He offered little ones in return, but he was growing increasingly guarded, particularly when he noticed that the familiar flash of red was missing from his wrist. As such, dinner ended up being a quiet affair and after finishing their stew, he went back to the room with him and rather than start in on his studies, he asked if they could talk.

\---

Fenris never liked conversations that began that way so he looked a little solemn as he nodded. He wasn’t sure what to expect, but he was certain that he hadn’t been the only one with a lot on his mind that day. He took a seat on the edge of his bed, looking up to the mage. “Of course we can. Take a seat.”

\---

He watched him sit and then moved to join him, though he gave him some space. “A lot has happened in the last couple of weeks…” Mostly in the last couple of days, but it had been building. He really wasn’t sure where he was going with this, as much as he’d thought about this conversation that day, so he trailed off there, to see what Fenris might say.

\---

“Things I don’t think either of us would have expected to happen.” Things that couldn’t be undone, even if he did want that. He found himself unable to meet Anders’ eyes and he looked down at his hands, toying with them anxiously. He’d hoped to keep things light and easy at least during the waking hours, but having to talk about what was going on now had his stomach churning as it had been the night before.

\---

“No, definitely not.” He was facing his own bed, which had gone empty in the passing nights, but he wasn’t sure that it would again after this. He needed to ask him about this, but he was finding himself reluctant to ask anything that came with assumptions, so instead he decided to comment. “You took off your wristband…”

\---

“...I did.” He looked to the bare place on his wrist where the red scarf had been wrapped. “I spent all of last night thinking about what  happened. I can’t wear it anymore because I don’t regret what we did. It was wrong of me and I can’t justify it...but I still wouldn’t take it back. I don’t know what kind of person that makes me, but that is the truth of it.”

\---

He turned his head to look at him, studying him with a troubled expression. “Fenris…” He didn’t know what to say to him. What little he’d known about the warrior before, he’d known that he adored Hawke, as little as he cared about his feelings at the time. “This… this doesn’t make sense.” He looked away from him, lifting his hand and rubbing his forehead, trying to imagine in what reality he was...what? Stealing Fenris away from _Hawke_? “You hate me.” That clearly wasn’t true anymore, but it was almost...comforting in its familiarity.

\---

“I did hate you. I also never really gave you the chance to even speak to me before we had to.” He still couldn’t look at him. He hadn’t looked up from his hands since their conversation began. “It shouldn’t make sense, but the more we’ve talked the more it _does_ make sense, at least to me.”

\---

“Does it? Even if you don’t hate _me_ , I’m still a mage. I’m still everything you despise. I…” He couldn’t bring himself to say it, but he was the man who would have done anything to lure Hawke away from him. He found himself asking all these questions of Fenris because it was easier than confronting his own confusion and developing emotions.

\---

“You're a mage, but you're not everything I despise. You're not like the mages in Tevinter. You're not like him.” He shook his head and sighed. “Hawke wanted me to see it in you, but I refused to look. Now...I don't know how I'll explain any of this to him when we see him again.”

\---

This was not the first time he had said something to that effect, but never in those words. It meant something to him. A lot of something, actually, but right now the focus was on Hawke. If there was one thing he knew for certain, it was that he would never see Hawke again. “I know you love him. More than anything, I know you love him and when I find a way to separate us, you will return to him and it will be like this never happened.” The last time he spoke on this, in an attempt to spare Fenris’ fists, he’d wanted to sink into a hole and never climb out afterward, so it took all of his effort to muster words on this again.

“I can’t do this.” He rose to his feet and moved away from the bed, putting distance between them to stand on the opposite side of the room with his back to him. “I can’t be stuck in the middle again, you and Hawke, and me, a stand-in that no one actually wants.” His voice was incredibly tight and he was drained just getting those few words out. Like before, most of this pain was coming from the unreciprocated love he had for the rogue that had lead him on, but there was different twinge of hurt at the thought of the warrior using him in much the same way. Nothing more than a body to keep him warm until he returned to the man he pined for.

“Andraste, how have I been so stupid?” He’d tried to resist, to ignore it, but he’d failed. It was Fenris. _Fenris_. If he had to get caught up in someone with whom nothing would come of, did it have to be the only person that could bring his misery around full circle?

\---

“...I don’t think I can go back to him when this is over.” Fenris pulled his feet up onto the bed when Anders moved away, wrapping his arms around his knees. He still couldn’t look up at him. “I love him, Anders, but I don’t think I can trust him. Nor should he trust me, it seems. He was the one person that I really thought I could put my faith in.”

\---

His impulse was try to convince him that nothing really happened, but he wasn’t going to keep trying to mend their relationship. He wanted nothing to do with it. “You will. In your position, I know I would. You will.” He moved to sit down on the edge of his bed, pulling a leg up onto it and fixing his eyes on the door, silently marking his desire to run from this conversation. “Being jealous of you is enough, I don’t want to be jealous of him as well.”

\---

“I don’t think I can.” He rested his forehead on his knees, curled up tightly where he sat. “I don’t know how I’d even talk to him after all of this. How did I make such a mess of this?” He wanted to blame Hawke entirely, but he had kissed Anders even before he knew what his lover had done. He had been so drawn to the mage that he would have likely ended up bedding him even if Hawke had never wronged him. His fingers wound into his bone white hair and gripped the strands tightly, deeply regretting eating a full bowl of stew with his stomach roiling the way it was.

\---

In the back of mind, there was a growing feeling of anger and disapproval that was irritatingly familiar. He knew it well, because he’d felt it every time he’d ever spent time alone with Hawke. _He’s not even here_. He didn’t need the spirit getting his knickers in a bunch when he was dealing with enough as it was.

_Then stop behaving as if he is._

A frown pulled his lips down and his own rush of anger melded with the spirit’s and his hands curled into fists. Between well intended, but half hearted attempts at comfort, Justice had always minimized his feelings about Hawke and he knew that he didn’t understand the love and heartache that wracked the body they shared. He saw only utility and the fact that Hawke had such a negative effect on him, on _them_ , had been a matter of contention between them, even after their ‘relationship’ had ended.

“Nobody asked you,” he growled under his breath, resentment in his voice.

The anger between them turned to a boil, both of them contributing equally to it, before it became too much and spilled over. The warm lighting from the lanterns in the room shifted toward something cooler as Justice forced himself forward. When he had control, he turned his head to look at the elf curled up tightly on the bed.

\---

Fenris hadn’t looked up, judging by the whispered words that it was not him the mage was speaking to. He felt so ill, knowing that if he did end up going back to Hawke that the trust between them would be irrevocably fractured on both sides. Knowing that Anders wanted nothing to do with this for fear of being cast aside again. He wished now that he’d taken up the offer to buy some wine, but for the first time he was wanting to drink to forget the current state of things rather than the past. Tempting as it was, he didn’t feel up to moving just now, preferring to stay curled in tightly on himself until he felt like he knew what to do from here.

\---

Justice rose to his feet and closed the distance that Anders had created, returning to the spot he’d sat down on at the beginning of their conversation. “When he teaches you to write, you can send Hawke a letter telling him what you’ve done. There is no need to see him. You can stay with Anders.” For the subject matter, the ethereal voice was not fitting, but it needed to be said and it had become clear that Anders would not say it.

\---

He hadn’t moved when he felt the weight of the other on the bed, but he startled when heard the change in his voice and finally looked up. Considering what he’d said for a moment, he frowned deeply and nodded. “That’s...probably best for everyone involved.” He felt Hawke deserved to hear it from him face to face, but then his lover hadn’t told him about his indiscretions at all and he’d learned them accidentally through Anders. Part of him did want to see the rogue again, but he knew all of the guilt, anger, and mistrust that he now harbored would ruin what should be a happy reunion.

\---

“It is,” he agreed, his eyes fixed unwaveringly on the elf. There was something different to the way he held himself, he sat taller and he with confidence, setting himself apart from the mage in a way that went beyond his glowing skin. “He needs you. You keep him safe and take care of him. We will be able to do so much more if you are with us.” Things he knew that the elf had no interest in doing, but that did not matter as long as he didn’t get in their way.

\---

“He does not need me, but I will protect him as long as I can.” At least until they were separated. Before he knew exactly what he would do once they were no longer bound, but now he had no idea. He had nearly had a home, but now he would not be able to return to Kirkwall. He sighed and curled back in on himself, his fingers weaving into his hair once more.

\---

“He does. We do.” If possible, he needed him more than the mage did, but they were one and their needs were one. “In the time we have spent with you, I’ve realized what our joining did to us. You have the Fade inside you and being so close to you has helped me remember who I am. The rage inside of him is overwhelming and I began to lose control, driven by this...corruption.” That was what Anders called it, but he’d not seen it himself until he’d been given the song of home. “He was losing himself to Vengeance as much as I was, but the longer we are close to you, the better it has been.”

\---

He didn’t raise his head all the way this time, but Fenris at least peeked up at where the spirit sat when he spoke. “...So being around me has helped the corruption? In both of you?” He didn’t understand why, even if the lyrium in his skin made them feel closer to the Fade. It soothed them, clearly, but could it really be doing something far more important?

\---

“Yes. It is still there and I don’t think it will ever disappear, but I’ve realized that the things we’ve done, the things we’ve planned, they were not just. We were acting with the need for retribution, not for what was right, but you’ve given us peace from that.” Just a week ago, he’d been planting a seed of a destruction in his mind, but he’d since come to understand the implications of what he’d planned, both in Kirkwall and Orlais, and it was not the right way to bring freedom to the mages.

“Anders not only needs you, he wants you. He will try to push you away, but you mustn’t let him.”

\---

“I cannot make him stay close. I want him to…” None of this had felt so bad when Anders had wanted to stay close. Save for when the mage had slept and he’d been left to face his demons alone. He shook his head. “If he wants to push me away, it is not my place to make him want me.”

\---

“Then just don’t push _him_ away.” If the mage pushed and the warrior pushed back, creating even more distance, then it would be difficult for them to remain close. Then again, the way they had come together so simply after years of loathing, perhaps it was just a matter of time before they got back to where they’d been the previous night. It was time for him to give up his control to the mage, but he decided to offer one last nugget of advice. “Anders likes tea.”

With that, he eased back into the depths of his mind and when the mage came to, he was disorientated and confused, “...what?”

\---

The last bit of information threw him off guard but he didn’t have long to consider it before the mage was back. “Welcome back.” He murmured, his face still mostly hidden in the ball he’d tucked himself into. “Did you overhear any of that?” He doubted it, considering how disoriented he appeared.

\---

 

His eyes snapped to Fenris, as if startled to see him there, but they didn’t linger there for long as he looked around to reorient himself. He had not been sitting here… He registered what he’d said and paired with the blank in his mind, understanding struck and he looked back to him with a shocked expression.

“You didn’t…” he breathed to himself, unable to accept that he would butt in so blatantly. He jump to his feet, suddenly furious, pacing back and forth between the beds. “You didn’t!” He whipped around and looked back to Fenris. “What did he do? What did he say?”

\---

The outburst prompted Fenris to finally lift his head again, watching the mage solemnly. “Nothing to your detriment, it’s alright.” He said, trying to use the same soothing tone Anders used with him from time to time. “Anders, have you noticed anything different since you’ve been close to me? Any change in your anger and the...corruption?” He asked, needing a moment to remember the word the spirit had used.

\---

He question took him aback and he immediately turned inward. _What did you tell him?_ “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he denied, without really taking the question into consideration. “I don’t-... he _told_ you about that?” He was upset, almost at a loss that the spirit would even acknowledge it. He’d only ever told one person about the things that were going on inside of him, otherwise he kept it hidden. His companions were left only to deduce and he preferred it that way, since it wasn’t something he wanted to confront himself.

\---

“I think he had to.” He could see how much it was upsetting him and he made himself uncurl a little further to pat the mattress beside him. “It has been better lately, hasn’t it? That’s why he had to tell me.”

\---

He saw the gesture and he almost shook his head, but there was a push from somewhere inside him, an encouragement that made him close the distance to sit beside him. “Better?” He still wasn’t sure what he was suggesting, but with a few gentle nudges from within, he started to think about the things he’d taken notice of since being on the ship. “I suppose better is a word for it…” It was hard for him to see the change in outrage, attributing it as he did to the fact that he had little to be worked up about here, but he had noticed changes. “I haven’t blacked out, until just now, and I… I’ve been better able to distinguish between us. It feels less like I am speaking to myself and that his emotions are mine.”

\---

“He thinks that’s because of me. Well, not me, but my skin. That’s what he wanted to tell me.” There was more, but he wouldn’t volunteer that unless the mage kept insisting he tell him all that Justice had to say. He was quiet a moment, then reached to put his hand lightly on Anders’. “...I’m not going back to Kirkwall. I’m not going to see him again.”

\---

The suggestion came as a shock and he wanted to demand answers from Justice, to know what conclusions he was coming to and why he’d not told him, but he was pulled out of his tirade when the hand was placed over his. He met his gaze intently, the words making a heavy impact, but leaving him wary. “Because of what Justice told you?”

\---

“Not really. What Justice told me only helped me with a decision I was already making.” He still looked solemn and a little ill, but his eyes were unwavering and his tone was firm. “I’m not going back. The bridge is crossed, so now I’ll stand and watch it burn. I won’t be seeing him again.”

\---

He couldn’t believe those words actually left his mouth and he stared at him, wondering how he had the strength to give up the man he loved when he didn’t have to. Whatever qualms he had with Justice were forgotten and he was completely focused on him, though he didn’t know what to say. His hand twisted beneath Fenris’ and he took hold of it, the touch meant to be a comfort more than anything. “You don’t have to.”

\---

When his hand turned, Fenris laced their fingers together to hold his hand tightly. He gave him a brief little dose of lyrium, not meaning to make him unfocused, just offer him a little comfort in return. “I do have to. It’s what I want. I don’t do it lightly, but it’s what I want. When you’ve taught me to write, I will write him a letter to explain why I won’t be coming back. I owe him more than that, but I think it’s best for everyone that we simply never meet again.”

\---

“Maker, Fenris,” he murmured, before scooting closer to him so their sides were pressed together. After some hesitation, he leaned in tentatively and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek, before lowering his head down to his shoulder and cuddling with him. He knew better than to think that he was ‘choosing’ him, but he was choosing not to go back and it amounted to the same thing, didn’t it? The empathy he felt for him was helping to get rid of his reservations and not worry about his own feelings.

\---

The kiss was every bit as soothing as the one he’d gotten on his forehead before. He turned in his seat to drape his free arm around him and nestled his cheek into his hair, finding that pressing to his side just wasn’t enough right now. He closed his eyes, trying not to think about what he had to do or what his betrayal of Hawke said about him as a person. Right now he wanted to soak up this comfort that he had, hoping his stomach would settle if he could just relax a little.

\---

He slid his arm around his front in return and after a while of just holding him, he turned his cheek to kiss his shoulder. “Let’s lay down.” He urged him back, so he could lay at the pillows, and lowered down beside him. He kept his arm around his middle and returned his head to his shoulder, finding it comforting to stay so close to him.

\---

Fenris let himself fall back onto the pillows, his arms wrapping tightly around him. He tucked himself against his body in a way that he hadn’t in their nights before, tangling their legs and hiding his face against the mage’s neck. It was uncomfortable to press so firmly against him, but he didn’t mind it at all, finding a lot of comfort in Anders’ presence.

\---

He responded in like, keeping a secure hold on him to try and ease whatever ache he was feeling. “...I’m glad you’re staying,” he whispered, wanting him to know that. They were far from finding a way to separate themselves, but if they found a way tomorrow, he didn’t really want him to go. He enjoyed his company and he was becoming use to having him around with no space for himself.

\---

“I am too. I don’t want to be anywhere else right now.” Perhaps a more comfortable bed, but he’d settle for the ground to stay in his arms. He didn’t bother with asking the man to undress, just worked his hands beneath the fabric until he could feel his bare skin. He’d grown used to feeling their bare bodies pressed together over the last couple of nights and the clothing felt like an unwanted barrier.

\---

He felt the hands digging and had a thought that they should undress, but it wasn’t worth it to let go of him. They found his skin eventually and his own hand clutched at the bare patch of arm left uncovered by Fenris’ armor, thumb brushing back and forth over the markings absently. It was just as frightening, if not more so now, to open himself up to these conflicting emotions he’d been having, but there was a flicker of hopefulness that it might be worth it.

\---

Fenris breathed a little sigh as the thumb gave him a gentle caress, enjoying it in silence for awhile before he finally spoke up in a soft murmur. “...That feels really nice. The tattoos are so sensitive that a firm touch is unpleasant. A lot of pressure hurts. But light touches like that feel...incredible.” It seemed they would likely spend more time cuddled up like this so perhaps it was the right time to teach the mage how to touch him, though thus far he’d done an excellent job being gentle on his own.

\---

“They do? I didn’t know that…” He thought about the previous night and considered the roughness at which he’d taken him. “Last night… Did I hurt you?” If he did, he hadn’t meant to and he preemptively felt bad if he hadn’t noticed. His thumb had stilled on him, as if concerned to continue, but he slowly picked it back up, the touch even lighter than before.

\---

“You don’t have to be so careful, I’m not fragile. Do it like you were before I said anything.” He chuckled under his breath, finding his concern about the matter endearing enough to chase away some of the ache in his stomach. “You didn’t hurt me at all. Last night was perfect.” The squeezing when he took him in hand had nearly been too much, but really the entire experience had been amazing.

\---

He smiled at the description, but he was still hesitant to resume without a careful touch. He had a thought and though he wasn’t certain it would work, he wanted to try. “Can I attempt something?” he asked, continuing the feather light touch. “With magic? Nothing directly on you, just an aura.” An aura that he used in battle whenever they were being overwhelmed and everyone needed a little of his healing, so it was something that he would have experienced before, though he may have not even noticed in the heat of the moment.

\---

Normally the question would have put him on edge, but he just looked to Anders as he considered it. He knew he wasn’t going to hurt him and he had fewer reservations if the spell wasn’t directly on him. “Go ahead.” Despite the easy agreement, he still found himself tightening his hold on him a little as he waited, as if anticipating something bad was about to happen.

\---

If it wasn’t for him letting go of his arm to shift his hand, it would have been impossible to know that he’d cast a spell at all. Almost nothing changed, except there was a warmth in the air around them. A warmth that was not unlike when he healed, but much subtler. Which is why Fenris probably never noticed him using it on the battlefield or at least he’d never gotten any complaints about it. The spell not only prevented wounds from worsening, it blocked the pain of them and allowed his companions to fight without impediment. With the aura in place, he gave his arm a careful squeeze, though it wasn’t enough to hurt him even without it. “How does that feel?”

\---

He could feel the subtle change and it felt much less invasive than the magic he was used to. He'd never noticed it in the heat of battle and he might not have noticed it now if he wasn't paying attention. “That still feels nice, but you're still being gentle.”

\---

“Tell me if it’s too much.” He didn’t want to hurt him and he didn’t know if this was a pain he could prevent, but he slowly began to tighten his hand. More and more, he squeezed, adding pressure gradually so he could stop if told at any time, without causing him too much discomfort. He watched his expression carefully, in case he would put on a front and not admit to what he might be feeling.

\---

He seemed to brace himself as the squeeze grew stronger and eventually he began to smirk. “It doesn't hurt. It should hurt by now, but it doesn't.” He'd never been gripped so tightly in his life without pain.

\---

That brought a grin to his lips and knowing that it was working, he continued to tighten his grip, until he was holding him firmly enough that it would it be uncomfortable for the average person, but he didn’t push past there. “I wasn’t sure it would work.” He sounded pleased that it did. He loosened his hold on him, so he was touching him as before, but without the carefulness.

\---

“That will be very handy. Not that I would have stopped you if you got too rough holding me.” When the grip on him relaxed, he pressed a kiss to the mage’s jaw. “We should really stop lying down before taking our clothes off. They just get in the way.”

\---

That made his lips fall into a slight frown. “If I ever hurt you, I want you to tell me.” He didn’t want to be unknowingly causing him pain. ...unless it was the good kind of pain. He stroked his hand over the bare skin and up his shoulder, even though it was covered by his armor. “And here I was thinking you liked all the feathers,” he joked, wanting to keep the lightened mood.

\---

“I can handle pain. I don't want you to fret about it. I only told you so you would know what feels best since my sensitivity is unusual.” He chuckled under his breath, looking relaxed under the gentle hand. “They look good on you. I just like them much less when I want to feel your skin on mine.”

\---

“Still, tell me,” he insisted, finding this point to be important. “Perhaps it is time you teach me how to properly take off your armor then.” He didn’t know where all the buckles and latches were, but if he did, he could help him strip down the next time this became relevant. Assuming that it did… It seemed to him to be a pretty safe assumption.

\---

“I will tell you if it’s too much.” He assured him, understanding that the mage was truly concerned about it. “I will teach you, but only if you teach me how to take off those robes of yours.” Fenris took Anders by the hand and started to guide his fingers to the joints of his armor so he could find all of the little pieces that held it together.

\---

He followed his lead, his fingers working his armor loose with every discovery they made. When it began to fall away, he pushed the armor side, letting it fell heavily to the ground. He worked him bare, pushing himself up as necessary and even taking his trousers off, so he could have the full access to him. He took his time to admire him, his eyes moving leisurely over his body, before he gestured him closer, so he could show him what to do in return.

\---

He felt better being bare and he wore a little smirk as he moved in close and offered his hand. “Show me what to do. It may be dangerous though, once you show me I might start disrobing you all the time.” When they were alone, anyway.

\---

Despite his lingering reservations, he couldn’t help but smile and return the favor of showing him all the places that he needed to unclasp and undo the thick robes. There were several layers to contend with, but with his guidance his jacket fell, then his outer robe, then his inner robe, until all that was left was his smallclothes underneath. “I think you can handle those without my help.” It was a flirt, but he kept it light - they’d just dealt with a lot of heaviness and he didn’t want him to think he was expecting anything. He wasn’t.

\---

“Yes, I think I can manage those.” Fenris wanted him completely exposed and so he wasted no time in removing his smallclothes as well. He pressed against him again, sighing contentedly to feel the heat of his skin all along the length of his body. It seemed that he did have something in mind though as he began to slowly urge Anders to his back after he’d had a moment to just enjoy the new warmth in their embrace.

\---

The feel of his skin was more reassuring than anything that had been said between them. When he was urged to lay, he let himself fall back against the pillows, looking up at him. It still felt surreal that this was happening between them at all, but the fact that all it’d taken was a few conversations between them… He’d known that they could relate to each other, but he would have never expected them to find so much common ground and to end up so close.

\---

When Anders was settled, he leaned down to press a soft kiss to his lips. Then just as he had that morning, he crawled down the mage’s body and with no warning, lowered to draw his soft cock into his mouth. He started to suck him softly and slowly, seeming that he wanted to keep him relaxed rather than really rile him.

\---

Whatever he might have anticipated, it hadn’t been that. It was so sudden that he sucked in a sharp breath, his fingers twitching as if needing to grab something. “Fenris… you don’t have to.” He didn’t really want him to stop, now that he’d started, but he didn’t want him to think he needed this right now. He’d just decided some pretty big things and he would be perfectly content with just laying together and talking, if that was what he wanted.

\---

He pulled off him briefly, his hand moving in to stroke him slowly instead to help harden him while he spoke. “I know I don’t, but I want to. Let me help you relax.” That morning he’d been more vigorous since he’d been helping him to wake up, but now he kept all of his movements slow and gentle as he took him between his lips again and leisurely rolled his tongue around his tip.

\---

It didn’t take much to have him hard, the sight of his mouth wrapped around him alone was enough to heat his blood. “If you insist,” he muttered under his breath, a hand lifting to slide into his hair to stroke encouragingly. It felt really nice and the pace allowed him to savor every little movement of his tongue and lips. He sighed, his eyes drifting shut as he focused the sensations, giving him what he wanted and relaxing.

\---

He would have smiled at the response if his mouth wasn’t busy. He did insist and he’d insist on this often since he knew how much it would put his lover at ease. His eyes watched the mage serenely as he started to bob now that he had hardened enough to have the length to do so. The elf knew all sorts of little tricks with his tongue and just when to suck hardest, never urging the pace faster, simply enjoying the slow and diligent movements of his work.

\---

Along with the occasional moan, his body twitched whenever something felt particularly potent. His eyes kept cycling between opening to fixed on him and closing in relish. After some time, he tightened his grip in his hair and let out a heavy breath. “What about you?” Surely this wasn’t all that he wanted?

\---

He finally let off of him again, but as soon as he did he replaced it with his hand again so he wouldn’t lose too much sensation. “What about me? This is a gift, Anders. I don’t ask anything in return.” He was very used to nothing in return. In fact, just as he was last night, he was still always a little surprised to be pleasured in return in spite of the time he’d been with Hawke.

\---

A gift? “What if I want to give you a gift in return?” After saying this, he pulled his knees up and parted his legs a little, silently offering himself to him. He’d taken him the night before, so it was only fair that he returned the favor for him.

\---

“You can give me a gift whenever you like.” When his thighs parted in invitation, Fenris moved his free hand into the space he offered, letting his finger gently massage his entrance as he stroked him. He knew just where to apply pressure and just how much, doing so without thought as he spoke. “I just don't want you to feel like you need to please me if it hadn't been your intention before I began. I just want to relax you before we settle for the night.”

\---

“Well, as they say, intentions change.” He hadn’t intended on this, no, but they were here and he wanted to satisfy him in return. His touches were just as pleasant there as they were elsewhere and his legs opened further when it seemed that his invitation was being accepted. “Besides, you need to relax too.” It might even be argued that he had even more ‘need to relax’. The fingers gave his hair a final stroke, before he drew his hand back and gestured him closer.

\---

“I never relax.” He smirked and when he was beckoned closer, he moved his hands away from Anders. He didn't start to climb up his body until he'd run his tongue slowly up the length of his cock, apparently not having gotten his fill of the taste of him. When he finally settled beside the mage again, he watched him expectantly, curious what he had in mind.

\---

The lick made for a pretty sight and was enough to make him groan under his breath in want, but when the warrior didn’t come over him, the lust was replaced by confusion. He turned to his side and reached down to take hold of him, feeling that he wasn’t particularly worked up, but that could easily be fixed. “Do you not want me?” he ventured, beginning to stroke him, wondering if he preferred not to take.

\---

“I do.” Fenris murmured in a groan as he was stroked, his cock perking readily as soon as it was touched. “I just wasn't anticipating this until now. We'll need to use whatever you had last night so I don't have to take you dry.”

\---

“Then let me get it for you.” The aura was still in place, so he gave his cock a firm squeeze, before letting go to lift his hand and tap his nose with a finger. Then he rose up to fetch the jar that they’d used the previous night, returning with it and taking the initiative to apply it himself, as soon as he was close enough to take him in hand again.

\---

He'd actually tensed a little when he was squeezed, anticipating discomfort, but he smiled and relaxed when nothing happened. When Anders began to coat him in the lubricant, his hips rocked instinctively into the touch and a soft moan left his lips. He leaned in to kiss him hungrily, but there was still something slow and gentle in his affection.

\---

The kiss made him smile, but he forced it away so he could return it in like, his hand working him thoroughly. He wasn’t just coating him, he was pleasing him, wanting him to feel as good as he’d made him feel. “How do you wish to take me?” he murmured against into the kiss, his tongue darting out to tease his lips.

\---

His own tongue returned the tease, but it was a little hard to focus with the hand working him so well. “Stay on your side, but turn around so you face away from me.” He stole a firmer little kiss from him before shifting back a little so he'd have room to move.

\---

The request made him pause, but only for a beat. Any time he bedded another, he was somewhat insecure about positions that allowed a plain view of his back, but it never took much to get his mind off of it and then it didn’t matter. No one ever said anything. He turned as indicated, anticipating him coming up behind him and knowing that it would feel nice to have his body pressed against him in such a way.

\---

Fenris wasted no time in pressing up against his back. He tipped Anders back a little and shifted the mage’s leg up over his hip so he was nice and open for the taking. After reaching down to position himself, he slowly began to push into him, pausing when he was deep inside of him and savoring the feel of being held in the tight muscles.

\---

His fingers dug into the pillow in front of him and he pulled in a sharp breath as his body opened to him. Weren’t it for the aura, it would have hurt. It’d been a long time since he’d done this, but this was the good kind of pain that he didn’t mind. That would’ve made his toes curl, if he’d felt it. He forced himself to let go of the pillow so his hand could descend to stroke himself slowly, giving himself a little crackle of electricity, like before.

\---

“I can do that for you…” He murmured between soft kisses to the back of Anders’ neck. His hand slid down to his hip, poised to take over if the mage moved his hand. He began to rock his hips slowly, gliding smoothly within him. He'd only pushed into him completely a few times before he let lyrium start seeping into Anders’ skin, keeping up his thrusts that were relaxed but very deep.

\---

“That’s okay.” He rather liked what he was doing to himself and it had been a _long_ time since he’d been able to enjoy the sensations together. “Just keep-...” The words faded into an abrupt moan and though he’d meant what he said, his hand fell from around himself as he reached for the pillow again, clutching it tightly.

\---

He smiled against his skin at the reaction and took him in hand. He wasn't sure if it would be too much, pouring the lyrium inside of his body as well as stroking it over the most sensitive of his flesh, so he kept the flow of it very light as he continued to slowly take him. “Do you like that?”

\---

His knuckles were straining, his hold on the pillow keeping him grounded, but the rest of his body felt weak. So wonderfully weak. He was pressing back against him, seeking even more contact, as if were possible for every inch of his skin to be touched at the same time. “Yes,” he breathed, working it in between needy sounds.

\---

He could feel the need in him and decided to really let him have it. He began to pick up the pace of his hips, still keeping it relaxed but thrusting harder in a gradually faster rhythm. He pushed more lyrium into his marks, squeezing Anders’ cock as he worked him inside and out. His own moans were muffled against his neck where he kissed and sucked the skin between panting breaths.

\---

He cried out, his body melting into uselessness so that all he could do was take it. His panting breaths were as desperate as his moans and he shook from the intensity of it. He could feel it all over him and deep inside… It went far beyond physical pleasure and though it translated into it nicely, it made the experience otherworldly. He made a sound, as if to speak, but whatever he meant to say was lost as his fingers tore into the thin fabric of the pillow.

\---

Hearing his pleasure was giving him deep throbs of arousal and he started to take him desperately, his former calm pace steadily ramping up to something wild and needy. His hand worked Anders harder, pumping him in time with the meeting of their hips. His gasps for breath started to become erratic and his hips soon followed, bucking hard before he finally spilled heavily into the mage with a soft cry of pleasure.

\---

The aura had gone out, too caught up to be able to maintain it, and it added an extra dimension to the sensations he was feeling and by the time he was laying it into him without restraint, he was writhing and making sounds he’d never heard from himself before. By the time he felt his release, his body was so sensitive that the sensation of it, along with hearing him cry out, sent him over the edge and he spilled with rough jerks that marked each wave of his climax.

\---

When it seemed they were both spent, he finally slowed to a stop. His lyrium eased a little as well until he only had a little flicker of it leaving his skin. His arms wrapped around the mage and he tucked his forehead against the back of Anders’ neck, panting softly as he recovered.

\---

The arms wrapping around him and keeping him close was it for him. His heart was pounding and he clutched at his forearms and curled up with him, wanting to stay like this for the rest of the night. As he recovered, his shaking softening to only a slight tremble, he groaned in satisfaction. “Maker, that was the most… mind numbing sex I've ever had.” That was putting it lightly, but he didn't know how to properly describe it.

\---

“That good, hmm?” He teased, though he sounded well beyond satisfied as well. He was softening inside the mage but had no desire to move, especially since the other seemed desperate for him to stay put just like this. So much so that the hands holding his forearms were making him ache a little. “Relax, Anders. I'm not going anywhere.” He murmured and pressed a kiss to his neck.

\---

At that it was tempting to take it back and play it off, but he couldn't even bring himself to pretend like it hadn't been perfect. If Fenris wanted to be smug after this, he deserved it. He hummed in response, but what came next made his chest swell and hands tighten on him even more, before he realized himself and he let go, “Shit, sorry.”

\---

He took in a sharp little breath when the grip tightened, his body tensing briefly, but chuckled under his breath when Anders realized what he was doing and stopped. “No, don't let go of me. Just be gentle. I bet that sounds strange coming from a man who spends his time on the front line of battle.”

\---

While that was true, “It sounds strange coming from anyone. I’ve been a healer for so long... no one has had to tell me to be gentle in a long time.” He set his hands back on his forearms, but carefully this time, so he wasn’t applying any pressure beyond just resting them there. Still, his reassurance was echoing in his mind and he curled up tighter, since he couldn’t hold him as he wanted to.

\---

“I am the first to tell you in recent history then.” He nestled his face against the back of his neck, content to hold him and simply breathe in the scent of his hair. “You proved me wrong though. You did help me relax tonight…” Not only in his release, but in settling against him like this, nestled not only against his body but inside of it.

\---

“Oh, that was all you needed, was it?” It was his turn to be smug, though in truth he’d done little. His participation had gone as far as enjoying himself, but that he had. It truly was the best tumble he’d had in memory. And to think he use to believe that no one could top a mage - the warrior had not been wrong when he’d said that he was a mage’s best ally… in all ways.

\---

“Apparently so. I didn’t know I needed that.” Though he’d learned to accept pleasure in his time with Hawke, he was far more used to giving it than receiving it. It was still a need that he didn’t quite recognize in himself when he wasn’t in the heat of the moment so when he had that release, he always felt much better than he expected.

\---

“I’ll have to give it to you more often.” It seemed this would continue to happen between them and really, he couldn’t complain. He’d craved intimacy for years and the little he’d gotten had not been enough, try as he might to deny it. He shut his eyes, curled up contently with the last person he would have ever expected and wanting to be no where else.

\---

“You'll spoil me.” Though it was clear that he fully intended to spoil Anders with pleasure. He'd been taught to do it well and he actually enjoyed doing it when he wasn't pleasing someone he loathed. “Rest well, Anders. I'll watch over you.”


	15. Chapter 15

After a heated morning that made a mess of the warrior’s bed, they went their separate ways as usual. Physically, anyway. Though not the first time Fenris had pestered his thoughts throughout the day, before he’d been able to push him aside and focus on more important things. Not today. Every task was done with distraction and though he managed to keep himself from seeking him out with his eyes, his thoughts circled around him endlessly. It got so bad that he managed to knock over a stack of jars that he was filling, shattering several.

That, of course, set off the herbalist and she while demanded what his problem was today, he went red and uttered a hasty apology, withdrawing his coin purse and offering her a few silvers to pay for them. The gesture made her soften and though she wouldn’t take it, she insisted that he was done helping her and to take the rest of the day to sort out whatever was bothering him. He tried to deny that anything was wrong, but she waved him off and wouldn’t even let him stick around to clean up the mess he’d made.

Chastened, he left and with nowhere else to go, he made his way to the spot he normally took his breakfasts and sat down roughly. _I can’t believe I did that_. _What is wrong with me?_ He continued to chastise himself harshly, frustrated that even just thinking about the warrior being a distraction was making his chest flutter in a way he didn’t want.

_You have a lot to think about, you don’t have to keep flagellating yourself._

The sudden input took him aback and left him dumb for a time. _...I’m sorry, but who are you and what have you done to Justice?_ The spirit hated all distractions, but particularly when they came in the form of other people. Specifically ones named ‘Hawke’.

_He’s not Hawke._

_No, really? Well, when you put it that way… Of_ course _he’s not Hawke, he’s worse than Hawke! It took years for Hawke to get into my head like this!_

_It seems the same is true for him._

“What? No. No, he’s not over there knocking over jars and… No.” He found himself on his feet, moving over to the railing and grabbing hold of it, his hands clutching the wood tightly. _I’m not in his head at all._

\---

It had been a good morning for Fenris. He'd laid peacefully through the night and the wild fuck that morning had provided a great boost in energy. He got through his morning work easily, not terribly distracted but sneaking frequent looks at the mage. At the moment he was helping to repair a net, humming under his breath as he worked new knots into the netting had torn. He glanced over at the herbalist stand and when he wasn't there, his eyes roamed for him. It seemed the mage was holding the railing, but from his angle it looked as if he might just be looking out over the water. Content that he was fine, the elf went back to his work, snorting at another deckhand’s jest about how he was actually somewhat pleasant to work with for a change.

\---

He couldn’t stand the way the thought made his stomach tighten and he shook his head to himself, but while he was struggling to fight his emotions, Justice seemed perfectly content. _Shouldn’t you be telling me to stay away from him? You can’t stand him… or at least you couldn’t before_. He knew the source of his change of heart, but surely he still didn’t want him getting caught up in him? If he’d knocked over the jars while thinking about Hawke, Justice’s voice would have been alongside his own in chastising him.

_He’s not Hawke._

_You’ve told me._ He sighed and lowered his forearms to the rail, so he was bending over it and peering down at the water below. “I don’t want to feel like this,” he murmured to himself, but he could still hear the assurances from the night before. ‘I’m not going anywhere’ and ‘I’ll watch over you’. It was not his first time hearing such words, but they had sounded so authentic and paired with the way he’d held him... _Justice, what aren’t you telling me? It has to do with what you told him last night, doesn’t it?_

_He is useful to us. It is best if you are close to him so that should the time come, he will not leave._

_That’s why you’re allowing this? Seems a bit hypocritical, doesn’t it? Compromising your morals for your own benefit. I didn’t even know you could - you never compromise for me._ That wasn’t true and he knew it, but it certainly felt that way when anything he did ‘wrong’ was met with criticism. _You’re just using him. You’re just using_ me _, my emotions._ The thought made him indignant. _My emotions aren’t yours to mess with._

_It’s for our benefit. As I told him last night, being around him and being so close to the Fade… I recognize what joining with you has done to us. There is too much rage inside of you and if I had known what would result, I would have found another way to be by your side. I do not like this force of Vengeance that I have turned into. It is not who I am, but I recognize that it is a part of me while I am with you. A part that I need to keep under control and for that, we need him._

Whatever he thought he might say, it wasn’t that. It felt like the wind was knocked out of him, but he should have expected it. When telling him what had been said last night, Fenris had mentioned the corruption, but what had struck him was that he was laying the blame at his feet. He’d known all along that it was his fault, but the spirit had never acknowledged those thoughts before, hell, he never really acknowledged the corruption at all, insisting that what they were doing was right, so to hear him say so plainly that all of the bad inside them was on him made him sick with shame.

He sank down into a crouch, his hands clutching at the rail, looking out into the horizon through the slats of wood without really seeing it.

_Besides, your emotions would be the same, with or without me._

\---

When Fenris found himself stealing another glance at Anders, he found that he was crouching now and looking a little ill. His humming ceased and he frowned, wondering if perhaps breakfast hadn’t agreed with him. That was a preferable thought to the possibility that he was regretting what they’d done. He hurried to finish up the line of knots he’d been working on so he could make his way over to him, leaning against the railing near the place he was crouched. “...Since when do you get seasick, mage?” He asked, concern in his tone though there was a light teasing note in it.

\---

When there was no response from the mage, his thoughts so fractured that nothing finished could emerge, he tried to back up and give him some reassurance. _We didn’t know this would happen and… Anders. Anders, listen to me. You are not a bad person. You are not corrupt. It took both of us to create this...being._

The mage swallowed, some impact made, but he was far from convinced. He shut his eyes, his head beginning to bow, but then he heard a voice beside him that made him jump. He let go of the railing and nearly toppled over, but managed to catch himself with a palm to the ground. His eyes lifted to look at the elf and when he realized what he said, he put on a false smile and started to push himself up. “Seasick? Me? Never. I was just admiring the view and the fresh air, you know, life on the water.”

\---

“Really? Do you always look so miserable when you admire things?” He moved in closer and offered his hand to help him up. His green eyes were sharp as they studied him, trying to read whatever was in the man that he wasn’t telling him.

\---

He took his hand and when he was back on his feet, he reached for the rail once again to help steady himself. “It would certainly explain the way I use to look at you, wouldn’t it?” He was use to their back and forth sniping, so it was easier than it should have been to come up with a retort and avoid the question.

\---

He snorted, but his smirk wasn’t genuine. Concern was written on his face as he watched him reach for the rail again and he nodded in the direction of their room. “Let’s go someplace quiet. We should talk.” It made his stomach turn with anxiety, but if there was an issue with what was happening, it was best to discuss it before it went any further.

\---

That was unexpected and his expression faded into a look of apprehension. He wouldn’t have thought it was possible for him to feel any worse, but it turned out that he more than could. He returned the nod and started off to the room, wondering what it was that he had to say to him. It couldn’t be anything good and it was easy to assume that while he’d been daydreaming about the sweet words and touches he’d given him, Fenris had thought about what they were doing and realized it was a mistake.

\---

When they reached the room, he took a seat on his bed and patted the mattress beside him, wanting them to sit just as they had the night before. He watched him carefully, fidgeting a little as he waited for him to settle to start the conversation with him. “...I want you to be honest with me. I don’t understand tact or lying to spare my feelings, so I need you to be blunt if something is wrong.”

\---

He didn’t really want to sit beside him if this was going where he thought it was, so when he was gestured to join him, he kept a little space between them. Not enough to make a statement, just enough that they weren’t touching. The way he opened the discussion was unexpected and he wasn’t sure where it was coming from. “Wrong? What do you think is...wrong?”

\---

He lowered his eyes at the question, knowing it needed to be addressed but still dreading it. “You’ve seemed a little off since we left the room this morning. I thought maybe you were just...I don’t know. Thinking about everything from last night. Then I saw how miserable you looked. So if you’re regretting last night, I want you to tell me straight…”

\---

This was the opposite of what he expected and he stared at him in disbelief. “You’re concerned that I regret it?” It wouldn’t have even occurred to him that the warrior could feel that way. If there was any regret between them, he would have expected it to come from him, but he didn’t even seem conflicted.

\---

“Yes.” The elf was a little surprised by his confusion, but pressed on. He needed a blunt answer. “If that is what is troubling you, I want to talk about it. You can tell me the truth.”

\---

He felt heat traveling up his neck and into his face and he shook his head. “I don’t regret it. I am-” He couldn’t bring himself to admit to all of his thoughts, not when he was so conflicted, so he pushed past them. “I was having a discussion with Justice. Things that I didn’t want to hear, that is all.”

\---

“...Oh.” He wasn’t sure what to make of that and he fidgeted in his seat again. He looked up a little to meet his eyes, looking uncertain. “So you were just talking to Justice? Not about...last night and what we’ve done?”

\---

The heat in face grew and he felt suddenly shy, finding that like the night before, he was rather distracted by him and everything with Justice seemed to fall to the background, though the dregs that remained were stubborn. “Not exactly.” That was a lie, but it wasn’t said to spare Fenris’ feelings, rather it was said to spare his own, so he thought it was fair. That wasn’t the part that had troubled him, anyway. “We were discussing what he told you last night.”

\---

“I don’t want you to worry about that.” He leaned to close the distance between them and pressed a brief kiss to the corner of his lips. “I told you, that is not the reason I am staying. It only helped me finalize the decision I was making. Don’t fret over what he told me.”

\---

His head cocked as he studied him, his heart beating quickly, finding it curious that he thought he meant he was talking about him staying. _What all did you say to him, Justice?_ He received no answer, so he it seemed he was meant to discuss this with the warrior. “Did Justice say something about you leaving...or staying?”

\---

“He said that being close to me is good for you. Both of you.” There was more to it than that, but it was probably best not to go into too much detail. He was all about bluntness, but he also knew when it was best not to say more than was needed. “I guess there are benefits to wanting to be around a walking source of the Fade.”

\---

He wasn’t convinced, but it did line up with what he’d said the previous night. Still, why would he think he was worrying about him staying? “From what he told me, it seems that he is right. I just wish it wasn’t so.” His fingers fell to fiddle with his robes, as they often did when he was anxious and avoiding the issue in front of him.

\---

“It doesn’t matter. As long as you don’t regret what we’ve done, I’m going to be here either way.” He was relieved that he didn’t seem to be conflicted over what they’d done. Still, he’d like to understand what was troubling the mage so. “Tell me what is on your mind.”

\---

He didn’t understand where all of this was coming from in him, but with the way his own emotions were evolving, it wasn’t unreasonable that they were reflected in the elf. Really, he’d been given every evidence that they were, even Justice saw it, it was just something he had trouble accepting.

“It’s not really something I wish to discuss,” he murmured, his eyes falling. After a pause, he sighed and rose to his feet, beginning to pace, his hands wringing. “How do you do this, Fenris?” He shook his head, his movements growing all the more agitated, back and forth, back and forth, before he abruptly stopped and threw his hands down. “You were right, okay? You were right the whole time - I’m an abomination, I’m a hypocrite, I’m everything you ever said I was. _There._ I said it.”

“I don’t know how you bring all of this out of me, making me admit these…” He struggled for the word and when he managed it, he all but spit it, “Truths. Every truth I don’t want to face, every pain I want to put behind me, I stand before you and I just spill them all and you’re right every time.”

His voice was breaking and he turned away from him, shaking his head and staring up at the ceiling. His hands came together and he pressed his fingers to his mouth, silencing himself.

\---

The words were a shock to his system after the previous topic and he gaped at him a moment before rising to his feet. “Anders…” He moved to face him, but kept a little distance. “Anders, I wasn’t right. I was unfair.” He couldn’t say that he hadn’t meant it. At the time he had meant it without a doubt. “You’re not like the mages of Tevinter. Everyone tried to tell me that. _You_ tried to tell me that, but I wouldn’t listen.”

\---

He shut his eyes and held his hands in place for a long moment. When he lowered them, they fell into fists at his sides, expressing his distress that way so it would not show up elsewhere. “It’s not about being like the mages of Tevinter. It’s about mages being dangerous and I-”

He couldn’t finish. He truly believed in his heart of hearts that mages weren’t a threat. They had the potential to be a threat, as did all who abused their power, but they were not inherently bad. He’d been one of the harmless ones and what had he done? He’d taken a power into himself and made himself no different than the blood mages he so abhorred. No, Justice was no demon, far from it, but in spite of his noble intentions, he’d turned himself into the danger that he so vehemently denied mages were.

“I lost control. I knew I lost control, but I couldn’t stop. Justice changed so much, because of me, because of what I am, and he tells me if it wasn’t for you...”

\---

He frowned and he had to look down at his feet for a moment. As much as he wanted to know just what to say, at the moment all he could do was bite his tongue to keep from saying that he told him so. That of course taking in a spirit was dangerous. That all mages were drawn to the power and once they had it, they couldn’t keep control. But saying any of that wasn’t going to help matters. After a beat, he looked to him and reached out to touch his arm lightly. “It’s alright, I can help you. If Justice is right, you’ll both have better control if you’re near me.”

\---

The touch made his fists tighten, but then they suddenly relaxed and he found himself closing the distance between them and sliding his arms around him limply. He desperately needed someone to lean on - he’d been bottling up emotions for years with no one to talk to but the voice in his head and he’d finally blown. All thanks to the elf in front of him, the same elf who’d always had been able to find ways to press his buttons and rile him into response, but was now on the end of all of these raw spiels.

\---

When the arms came around him, Fenris pulled him in close and held him tightly. His fingers tangled into his hair and guided his head to rest on his shoulder. Giving comfort was still new to him, but he’d learned from seeing it and even receiving it a handful of times over the last year. He kissed the top of his head and began to stroke his back slowly as he he held him, hoping it would be enough to calm him.

\---

His face twisted against him and try as he might to hold it together, he began to weep, his knees weakening and forcing the warrior to take his weight or let them sink to the floor. Everything had come together to overwhelm him and his heart _ached_ in a way that was so familiar, but felt so much worse than every time before it. Even with all of his companions in Kirkwall, even with Hawke, he’d felt so alone, so having Fenris by his side and being able to let out these internalized emotions was lifting an awful weight off his chest.

\---

He felt him start to sink and tightened his hold on him. He even lifted him a little, supporting his weight easily to keep him upright though it took away his ability to stroke his back as they stood. “It’s alright.” He murmured to him, keeping his voice at a whisper. “I’m here, Theodoric. It’s alright.”

\---

“It’s not,” he sobbed, his shoulders shaking. His hands lifting to clutch at his armor, the hold far more desperate than the embrace was. “It’s not alright.” Nothing was alright. If there was anything that was alright, it was that he was currently in the arms of the elf who had become so sweet to him and he didn’t deserve it.

\---

“It is. You haven't used Justice to hurt anyone. You've only meant to help. I'm going to stay close to keep both of you from forgetting who you really are. It's alright now.” He assured him, rocking him gently with the strong arms that kept him from slipping down to the ground.

\---

If only he knew. If he knew what he’d intended to do, he would let him fall to the floor and walk out. He hadn’t thought about it lately, but he’d wished he’d gone through with it many times since he fled the city, so what help had he been really?

_We haven’t been close to him for long and it took time._

_You were wrong, Justice. I am a bad person. If it would help them… I would do it. Still._

There was a strange feeling of guilt that felt different than his own, but he ignored it. If the spirit taking a step back and admitting that they’d gone too far, he knew it was wrong to feel this way, but this passion had been burned into him and even without Justice actively fueling it, it was hard to let go of all the injustices he’d accumulated like some twisted collection.

And yet…

“I’m always so scared of myself. Of everyone.”

Paranoid was a better word for it, but he wasn’t even close to sorting out his emotions.

\---

“You don't need to be afraid.” He kissed the top of his head again, wishing he knew some better way to soothe him. “Things are different now. You don't have to fear yourself or anyone else.”

\---

A miserable chuckle left him. “You sound like me and I sound like you.” He drew back from him, his eyes rimmed in red and his cheeks wet, but as he looked at him, the sickness he felt faded just a little. It was no wonder he couldn’t get him out of his thoughts. His eyes fell to his lips and he drew his hands up to clutch his cheeks as he pulled him into a desperate, pained kiss.

\---

The kiss caught him by surprise, but he was quick to melt right into it. He closed his eyes, kissing him deeply and wanting to chase away all the misery pouring out of the mage. His hands moved up to his neck seeking bare skin as his tattoos began to burst with brilliant blue light as he gave him everything he could.

\---

He sucked in a sharp breath and his tears ceased abruptly, but he was no less urgent in claiming his lips. “Fenris,” he breathed, his voice aching, but it was an ache that he was soothing. There were more truths threatening to fall from the tip of his tongue, but he bit them back. He didn’t want him to know the thoughts that had lead to all of this, that had nothing to do with what he was and everything to do with what the warrior was.

\---

“I'm here.” He murmured against his lips, nowhere near ready to break away from him. He kissed him so desperately, keeping the flow of lyrium intense until it finally began to fatigue him and he had to turn the brilliant light down to a soft glow.

\---

He hadn’t meant to break down like this, just like he hadn’t meant to bare his heart to him any time before. Having done so and having him remain close… “You’ll stay?” Though he hadn’t thought much about whether he meant what he was saying, he knew that deep doubt he did doubt it. He doubted it for good reason. Fenris had already assured him that he was and not just because of what was happening to him, but he needed to hear it again.

\---

“I'm staying. I'm not going back.” He was feeling a little lightheaded and rather than continue to hold the mage’s weight, he walked them over to his bed and sat down, pulling Anders up into his lap. “I don't want to be anywhere else.”

\---

Sliding into his lap, he tucked his arms around him, the hold light and meant to keep himself close. He’d calmed considerably, but the emotions were far from gone and there was still a heaviness lingering. Some of the weight had lessened, but so much had collected through the years that it would take a lot more to relieve it completely, if that was even possible. He nodded, ghosting his lips over warrior’s. “I want you to stay with me.” He _needed_ him to stay with him, but he right now it was what he wanted more than anything.

\---

“I'm staying with you.” He whispered the words and kissed him again, soft but urgent. His arms were wound tightly around him, holding him securely in his lap. “You don't have to be afraid.”

\----

That was what he needed to hear and what tension that remained in him faded, assured that he wouldn’t have to face the world alone. Everything he’d wanted with Hawke he was receiving from Fenris and it was much too easy for his heart to get the better of him. “I can’t believe you thought I regretted this. How could I regret this?” The words were not as grave as everything that had come before it and he brushed their cheeks together, before pressing a kiss to his ear.

\---

His ears were sensitive and he gave a little shiver just as he did whenever Anders touched his tattoos just right. “Just the timing of it, I suppose. I’m glad you don’t regret this. I just needed to be sure you didn’t feel that way.” It would hurt too much if he let this go any deeper just to find that the mage was having second thoughts.

\---

He nodded and finally, his sheepishness from all of this settled in him. “I’m sorry you had to see all of that,” he murmured softly, lowering his head to his shoulder. “It guess it’s been a long time coming and you really do have this terrible habit of making me say all these things I don’t want to.” He sighed, giving him a little nudge with his cheek. “...I wasn't always like this, you know.”

\---

“I’m glad I did see it. It sounded as if you’d needed to get that out for some time.” Fenris began to slowly stroke his back again when Anders settled his head on his shoulder, closing his eyes serenely. “Neither of us were always like this, but it is who we are now.”

\---

“For better or for worse,” he agreed, though he wasn’t sure which it was. Looking back on who he use to be, he felt ashamed of his selfishness, but he couldn’t help but miss how carefree he use to feel. Even with the Chantry on his tail, he’d always managed a positive outlook, if it trended towards morbid. He’d lacked a purpose though, and even if he’d gone about finding his the wrong way, it was better than what he had before.

\---

“Even if we never figure out if it’s for better or worse.” Who knew what sort of person he may have been before Danarius. Perhaps he’d been fun and easy going. Or perhaps he’d been more miserable and angry than he was now. It really didn’t matter. Whoever that person was, the elf had no association with him. “I’m glad you told me what was troubling you.”

\---

He didn’t know what to say, since he hadn’t wanted to say any of it and given the chance, he would take it back. He wouldn’t feel better, but he really didn’t want to know what Fenris was really thinking hearing him say all of that. Him in particular. He just took in a deep breath and released it slowly, wanting to stay right where he was, even though it was too early for them to be shut up in their room.

\---

He let the silence settle over them, stroking the mage’s back lightly as they sat. He was tired, having gone too long without sleep again, and he closed his eyes. They were heavy and they could rest until Anders was feeling better. He breathed a little sigh and his hand eventually fell still as he relaxed a little further.

\---

It was some while later that he shifted, lifting his head and pressing a kiss to his jaw. “You ought to return to work.” He knew that he found satisfaction in his daily tasks and he didn’t want to take that away from him. A hand withdrew from around him and he came to rest it on his chest instead.

\---

“I ought to, but I don't think I will.” He still looked quite serene and didn't open his eyes when Anders moved in his lap. “I think we can afford to quit a little early today. We could just stay in here.”

\---

“You don’t have to do that for me,” he assured him, not wanting him to stick around if his only reason for doing so was his concern for the state of him. “Though it had been some time since you’ve taken time for yourself, so perhaps this is as good a day as any for you to rest.”

\---

“It’s not only for you. I am very tired.” He was tired so often, but he would rarely admit it. He seldom even admitted it to himself. “I did enough today that they should still give us a warm meal tonight. Until then, let’s just hide away in here.” It was unlike him to want to leave his work unfinished, but after all of this he really didn’t want to go back out to the deck.

\---

“Then you should lay down and get some sleep,” he encouraged softly, slipping off his lap so he was no longer on top of him and he could maneuver freely. “Only a couple of days longer and we’ll be done with ships for some time.” The warrior needed to rest up so that he was feeling better by the time they got to port.

\---

Fenris was eager to lay down, but when he shifted from his lap, he tugged his robes to encourage him to settle down beside him as he settled onto his pillows. Before seeing Anders break down that way, he could have easily gotten back to work and made it another couple days without sleep. But he was unused to all of the emotion the mage had tapped into from him lately and while he was quite content, he was also drained. Though he usually wore his weariness well, he looked exhausted now that he was relaxed on the bed. “I will be happy to spend some time away from ships. I’ll be even happier to eat something besides stew, fish, and crab for a change.”

\---

He followed the tug and lowered down beside him, though he propped his head up on an elbow, refraining from getting too comfortable. “They’re consistent, I’ll give them that.” He’d eaten more in the last few weeks than he’d eaten in the months prior and he had to admit that it was doing him a world of good. If it wasn’t too expensive or time consuming, he would like to continue taking care of that need, especially since the taint in his blood was supposed to make him ravenous. He had been at one time.

\---

He chuckled under his breath and closed his eyes. “I could use a little less consistency in my diet. I don’t know what sort of cuisine they have in Orlais, but it has to be better than what is here. Our first night off this ship we should celebrate. Spend a bit of our coin on a fine meal and even finer wine.” He breathed a wistful little sigh, a smirk on his lips.

\---

“We could do that. You’ll have to enjoy the wine on your own, but somehow I think that won’t be an issue for you.” Really, he would prefer not to spend their money if they didn’t have to. He’d rather use it on things they needed and couldn’t go without, but for Fenris… He’d be willing to part with a few coins to see him smile. His free hand came to rest on his chest and he traced over the grooves of his armor, entertaining himself absently.

\---

“Nonsense. You can have some wine with me. Justice can allow you a little fun for just one night.” If the spirit wouldn’t complain about them having sex, perhaps he’d tolerate a little alcohol as well. His hand settled lightly on Anders’ arm, wanting to touch him and content to let it drift along with the motion of him toying with his armor. “Did you hear me, Justice? Just one night.”

\---

He didn’t think that anyone had ever directly addressed the spirit inside him like that and to his amusement, there was a flicker of surprise that quickly turned into tenacity. “I think that’s a no,” he relayed, a smile on his lips. “I don’t think he sees the benefits to me losing my senses to a drink.”

\---

“It’s good for you in the same way sex is good for you. It takes a little weight from your shoulders for a while. He should let you celebrate a milestone in our journey with me.” The elf was still smirking, but his voice had gotten softer as if he wasn’t far now from drifting off to sleep.

\---

“I don’t think he sees the benefits to me losing my senses during sex, either,” he commented lightly, though it did give him a much needed release of tension each time. He was offered what he could only describe as a grumble and he realized that perhaps he ought to word it differently. They were one and if there were any benefits to such actions for him, the spirit surely felt them. Better to say that the benefits weren’t worth the selfish risk that came with them. “We’ll find a way to celebrate, one way or another.”

\---

“Well, at least he doesn’t complain when we do it. So perhaps he won’t complain if you have a little wine with me.” He stroked his fingers slowly up Anders’ arm, then back down. “But I won’t push any further. For now. We’re going to have a great night when we land regardless.”

\---

He hummed and returned the touch, shifting his focus away from his armor in favor finding his hand and taking hold of it. It seemed the elf truly was exhausted, which was of no surprise, or he was truly comfortable. Whatever it was, it was clear that he would be asleep any moment and he would wait until he was under shift his focus inward and think about all that had been said between them.

\---

His fingers curled around Anders’ hand, but it was loose and relaxed. There was still a smirk on his lips as his breathing deepened and he began to drift into slumber. He mumbled something under his breath about how nice it was to lay down with him, but it was nearly incoherent. His fingers went slack in Anders’ hand, just resting peacefully in his grasp.

\---

It was nice to see him sleep and he hoped that when they settled into Orlais, he would do so more often. He wanted him to sleep every night, but he knew it would take work to get him to that point, especially since he’d said that he struggled to even when he felt safe with… before. He watched him for a time, his eyes intent on his relaxed expression, but eventually his thoughts drifted into what had been said between them.

_It was not my intention to upset you so._

He sighed and let his elbow fall to the side, so that his head sank down to rest on his arm. _These aren’t new thoughts, you know that. I just… I always relied on you to tell me it was okay and make me feel sane._ That hadn’t been Justice speaking though, it had been Vengeance and when the spirit agreed with some dismay, it was clear that he wanted to keep the sides of himself separate.

_With more time, you’ll feel like yourself as I do. It won’t happen again, I won’t allow this to take control of us._

There was something so protective coming from the spirit and it was as reassuring as the Fenris’ arms had been. For a long time, Justice was all that he could depend on and he’d come to rely on him. Even if he would take back their joining, he had no better friend and there was not a soul in the world that understood him like he did. Justice knew all of him. There were no secrets, no lies - the spirit had his every memory and knew his every thought. Clash as they might, they more often agreed and he always had someone to stand with him, to protect him.

If only it was enough.

His eyes were still fixed on Fenris and his heart beat firmly, but steadily. Perhaps there would be no secrets or lies between them. Maybe they would entrust each other with every memory and every thought. They might clash, but there was common ground to be found and they could learn. If he opened up to him, maybe he would stay by his side and they could protect each other.


End file.
